


In Memory Of

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 08:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13267476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: After falling in to a coma and losing his memory, Madara's mind fills in the blanks in any way it can - such as causing him to believe he is married to Tobirama. Hashirama convinces his brother to go along with it for now because really, what's the worst that can happen? As it turns out, a lot can happen. The charade only last for a few months but the effects of that time will change the rest of their lives.





	1. Chapter 1

On the one hand, considering how close they were, Tobirama was a bit surprised that Hashirama had managed to tear himself away from Madara’s side long enough to talk to him outside the hospital room where the Uchiha was laid up in bed. On the other hand he figured it made more sense than asking him to step inside the room for this conversation. Madara’s distaste for him was more than well-known. He was supposed to stay as calm as possible in his current delicate state; getting himself all worked up over Tobirama’s presence wasn’t exactly conducive to that effort.

“How is he?” Tobirama asked with a grunt, jerking his chin towards the closed hospital room door. The question was more out of duty than true interest but that didn’t stop Hashirama from sighing despondently.

“Better than we hoped, in some ways. Worse in others.” The Hokage chewed his bottom lip as he signed his name on the last of the forms his brother had brought to him. “Physically he’s recovering just fine. Mentally it’s a whole different story. The coma appears to have erased some things from his memory and rearranged others.”

Tobirama took the papers back with a thoughtful noise, sealing them away and tucking the scroll in to his pocket. “Memory can often be recovered, though, yes? Surely the loss isn’t permanent.”

“The doctors say the only way to tell is time. Some things may come back. Others might be gone forever. It’s possible he may get nothing back at all that’s been lost. Tobes, he’s so confused and I hate seeing him like this.” Hashirama looked up at his younger sibling from where he had hung his head, his eyes sad in a different way than how they were when he was only being playful.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, Anija.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And _you_ aren’t usually so pessimistic.”

Hashirama raised his head, hitting the younger man with the full force of his puppy-like expression. “He’s my best friend. And he took that blow for me, you know that. It’s just hard seeing him go through so much just for one simple act of selflessness.”

“Hn. Ironic considering selflessness isn’t usually his style.”

“The two of you, I swear!” Sadness immediately shifted to exasperation as Hashirama shook a finger under his brother’s nose. “If there was ever a time for you to at least try to be nice to him, now would be it!”

“You’re right, Anija, I apologize.”

Before either of them could say anything else the door beside them slid open with a bang that echoed along the otherwise silent hallway. The two brothers whipped their heads to the side to see Madara framed in the doorway looking as rumpled and grumpy as one might expect of a man who had only woken from a two week coma a few hours ago.

Tobirama also noticed that he looked oddly diminished. Where he usually carried himself with a nearly overbearing presence he looked somehow smaller now. Whether it was the absence of the armor he was almost never seen without or if it had something to do with the way his wild hair was mussed from extended bedrest, it couldn’t be said. Either way he looked more like a petulant child than a grown man as he frowned first at Hashirama before fixing his ire upon a suddenly resigned Tobirama.

“ _There_ you are! Honestly! Obviously it can’t have taken this much time for the news to reach you so what the hell took you so long to get here?” Madara’s hands were on his hips like a scolding parent and Tobirama wasn’t sure whether to laugh or snark back. He settled for vague confusion.

“What?”

“Don’t you ‘ _what_ ’ me, mister,” Madara snarled. “Your own husband wakes from a coma and you’re too busy doing who-knows-what to even come down here and make sure he’s okay?”

“I…I’m sorry my own who?”

Both Tobirama and Hashirama gaped at the man standing there in his hospital gown, unsure if they had heard him correctly. He didn’t exactly take well to being looked at as though he were acting strange.

“Your _husband_. What, our wedding slip your mind? I’m the one with memory problems you asinine prick but even I remember who the hell I’m married to. Times like these make me wonder why!”

The Senju brothers blinked slowly in tandem, such identical looks of cautious bewilderment on their faces that it was abruptly obvious how closely related they were. When Madara folded his arms across his chest with a challenging look they turned to stare at each other instead, silent for a long drawn-out moment. Hashirama gulped as he stepped forward to man-handle his friend back inside the hospital room.

“Let’s get you back in bed, okay? I was just bringing Tobirama up to speed on your condition and we didn’t want to upset you by rehashing everything again. I know how you hate hearing the same thing over and over and over.” When Madara protested Hashirama spoke right over top of him, risking life and limb by flagrantly ignoring his anger. “We’ll be right in, I promise! Just you rest and enjoy the quiet for a moment!”

“Some kind of friend!” Madara was shouting as Hashirama wrestled him in to the bed, “Won’t even let a man greet his husband after waking from a bloody coma!”

“You two can, uh, say hi in a minute, I swear!”

The patient was still yelling when Hashirama escaped his grasp and dodged out of the room. He pulled the door shut and Tobirama’s fingers practically flew through the signs to slap a seal on it and keep it closed.

“I do not have the words,” Tobirama murmured under his breath, “to say _what the fuck_ in strong enough language.”

“He thinks you two are married,” Hashirama whispered to himself faintly, gawking into empty space with a thousand yard stare.

“Married. Me and Madara, married. I didn’t think there was a genjutsu on this earth strong enough to convince either one of us that the possibility of that was even remotely conceivable, let alone an actual truth.”

“You can’t tell him!”

Tobirama spun around to face his brother, so far past incredulous he didn’t know what to call the emotion he was feeling.

“Are you out of your mind!? Not tell him? What do you want me to do, pretend we’re married and happy and in love and – oh my god you want me to pretend that I am married to Uchiha Madara, happy and in love. You’re insane. I’m checking you in. You can have the bed right next to Muddle-Head in there.”

“Wait!” Hashirama caught his arm when he turned to walk away. “Tobes _please_! He’s...he’s already confused. He’s lost and he can see the holes in his memories but he doesn’t know what should be there and that’s pretty scary. How would you feel if that happened to you?”

“If this happened to me I would trust you to at least tell me the truth of things and not allow me to make such a fool of myself!”

“There’s nothing else I can do to make things easier for him! He thinks he has a loving husband, someone who will support him while he needs it. What do you think that’s going to do to him if I take that away?” Hashirama’s lip wibbled and Tobirama sighed, his gaze distant as he disappeared in to his own head.

How bad could it be really? The man was in hospital so it wasn’t as though Tobirama would have to spend all night and day with him. Short visits each day would suffice to play his part and then the rest of the time he could go on with his life as usual. It would be odd and perhaps a little difficult at times to be kinder to Madara but he’d completed enough infiltration missions to be confident in his own acting skills. He just had to hope Madara wasn’t the physically affectionate type.

“You owe me bigger than you have ever owed me before,” he growled at last. Hashirama very nearly squealed.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you brother!”

“Shut up.”

“Shutting up!”

Before removing the seal Tobirama paused to take a deep breath in, letting it back out slowly and steeling himself for what he was about to do. The moment he deactivated the seal and unlocked the door it slid open to reveal a very angry looking man in a rumpled hospital gown. Madara glared back and forth between them with a stony face. Then he zeroed in on Tobirama.

“Well?” he demanded.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Tobirama demanded in return. “How are you to get better if you don’t rest?”

“I’ve been in a coma for two weeks, supposedly. I think I’ve had plenty of bedrest.”

“Come on now.” It felt strange to put his hands on Madara in any context that did not include violence, doubly so when the older man went along with his direction like a docile child, calming under his touch and allowing himself to be led back to the bed without a fight.

Hashirama hovered off to the side as Madara hopped up on the mattress and Tobirama forced his hands to be steady when he brought the blankets up for him, tucking them in around his legs. For a few moments there was awkward silence in the room. Then, true to form, Hashirama began to fill it.

“You missed a lot while you were sleeping!” he announced cheerfully. Madara huffed, shuffling himself around until he was leaning noticeably towards where Tobirama sat at his other side.

“My ears have already been tortured with enough gossip from you.”

“But I haven’t even told you the best bits yet! So, the other day I was talking to Mito and-”

“Is it possible you’ve become even more stupid over the last two weeks?” Madara snorted when Hashirama gave him a wounded look. “I don’t want to talk to _you_.”

He turned away from the suddenly pouting Hokage, looking instead to Tobirama. The younger man tried not to be obviously about freezing in place as though a spotlight had just dropped on him. He raised both eyebrows, unsure what the recovering patient wanted.

“Miss me?” Madara asked with a smirk.

“Hm.” Tobirama had but a few seconds to decide how to present himself. He wasn’t sure he could pull off the mushy loving spouse like Hashirama did with Mito. If Madara thought they were married then he was going to have to live with being married to his true personality. “Not much. Having the bed to myself was nice.”

He was nearly floored when all he got in response was a fond laugh.

“Keep telling yourself that. I know you missed me. You told me yourself that you can hardly sleep whenever I’m gone.”

“Did I? I don’t seem to recall.” As the old adage said, the best lie is the truth. He definitely had no recollection of ever saying something so ridiculous to Madara as that. Tobirama was surprised again, although he shouldn’t have been, when all he got for a response was a chuckle as though the other man knew him and – kami forbid – loved him just the way he was.

“Selective memory, I’m sure.”

Across the bed, the two Senju brothers shared a look of mild terror. Neither one of them had ever seen Madara so calm before in the face of Tobirama’s sassy personality. It was as though someone had switched bodies with him and, honestly, it was a little freaky.

Luckily for the both of them a distraction arrived right at that moment in the form of Izuna. The younger Uchiha barreled in to the room with all the grace of a drugged-up kangaroo, arms wheeling as he skidded to avoid hitting the wall and nearly throwing himself bodily across his brother’s lap. Madara wheezed as all the air was forced out of his lungs at once and Hashirama jumped in to rescue his friend immediately. Tobirama followed only a moment behind, realizing he should be playing the concerned spouse.

“Izuna!” He greeted his old rival with over-done cheer. “A word outside?”

“Fuck you, Senju! My brother just woke up from a bloody coma! I don’t have time for your–”

“Let’s get you caught up on your brother’s condition then!” Despite loud protests, Tobirama shoved the screaming idiot back out of the room and rolled the door closed with his foot, his expression instantly dropping from mild politeness to irritation. “Shut up for two fucking seconds you useless child soldier, this is important. Your brother is having _memory problems_ which affect all of us, most especially me since he’s decided that we are _married_.”

“WHAT!?”

“Believe me, I was no happier than you are to discover this. Hashirama thinks if we tell him the truth it will have a negative effect on his current mental stability. So until his brain figures out what it does and doesn’t really remember we all get to play happy family. Which means you and I don’t get to butt heads for a while. Got it?”

Izuna stared at him with his mouth moving soundlessly until finally his entire body seemed to bend slightly backwards under the pressure of his visceral disappointment. “Ah come on! No making fun of your hair? No telling you how dumb you look when you get all hyper-fixated on what you’re saying and start waving your limbs around like an octopus? That’s, like, the highlight of my day!”

“Hmph. Damn straight I’m the highlight of your day.” Tobirama grinned, mood lifting the smallest bit.

“Shut up, asshole,” Izuna said, shoving lightly at his shoulder. He retaliated by swiping half-heartedly at the other’s head. If someone had told him that one day he would be glad not to have killed this idiot, Tobirama would have called them crazy. Sometimes it still boggled his mind how fast they had made friends once peace was declared. Of course, it was a rough friendship filled with bickering, cheerful insults, and heavily competitive spars. In a way they mirrored their siblings’ friendship, though theirs wasn’t quite so loud – and had much less homoerotic subtext.

“So…brothers-in-law, eh?” Izuna wiped at an imaginary tear. “When did you two lovebirds tie the knot?”

“Hell if I know. We haven’t even figured out how he came to this ridiculous conclusion. All we know is that he’s got patchy amnesia and this is apparently what his brain is filling in the blanks with.” Tobirama gave a shrug, not bothering to react to the amused tittering of his companion.

Before Izuna could say anything else Madara’s voice hollered at them from within the room. Evidently he did not enjoy the way everyone kept leaving the room for secret conversations every time someone new arrived. Both of the men in the hallway took deep breaths, bracing themselves for what was to come before they had to go back in. Tobirama felt a little better knowing he would have Izuna’s assistance during this ordeal. His friend would be an invaluable source of information for him to use to appear as though he knew Madara the way a significant other should.

-

The first few days were easy. As he had planned, Tobirama only spent a couple of hours a day in the hospital visiting his fake spouse. Madara grumbled about feeling unimportant but it was only half-hearted and, surprisingly, he made a point to quietly mention that he knew how busy Tobirama must be with having to watch over both of their duties while he was incapacitated. That was, in fact, one of the things which had the younger man run so ragged lately so he was grateful to have a little recognition, if a little blown away to be getting it from Madara, of all people.

When the doctors announced that Madara would be fine to go home the next day there was a small panic as everyone else realized that he would _definitely_ discover their ruse when he noticed there was nothing of Tobirama’s in his home. An undignified scramble followed while they frantically rearranged Madara’s house, adding an extra dresser, shoving books in to every corner, and generally scattering personal belongings to make it appear as though Tobirama had lived there for some time now. Only after it was all over and they were welcoming the injured man home did Tobirama stop dead as it finally hit him.

He was going to have to live here. This was his new ‘home’. He was going to have pretend to be a happily married man with someone who had hated him from their very first meeting. Why was he doing this again?

By the time Madara set foot in his abode it had all the signs of housing two men and there was nothing to catch his suspicion, just the comfort of home with the one he was convinced he loved. For perhaps the first time in his life Tobirama encouraged his company to stay as long as possible, delaying the inevitable moment when he would be left alone with no idea what to say to his new roomie. Hashirama stayed for as long he could, leaving just before midnight because he had a meeting the next morning and he did need some rest beforehand. Izuna stayed only an hour longer.

Thankfully as soon as Izuna left Madara announced he was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. Tobirama was in the middle of breathing a sigh of relief when Madara paused in passing him, leaning a head on his shoulder.

“Coming?”

Just one little word but it seemed to tilt the ground out from underneath Tobirama’s feet. Was he coming to bed? With the man who just four months ago tried to stab him during a spar and pass it off as a test of Tobirama’s reflexes? Apparently he was.

Slipping beneath the sheets of Uchiha Madara’s bed was the single most tensely awkward moment of his entire twenty-five years of life. Tobirama had no doubt that he was going to spend the entire night awake, overly aware of just who it was lying right next to him. As soon as he lay down he rolled on to his side and scooted as close to the edge as possible, allowing Madara to have most of the mattress and trying hard to pretend he wasn’t even there.

This strategy worked for about five seconds, which was how long it took for Madara’s head to rustle on the pillow and a hand to reach across and stroke down the shape of his spine.

“What on earth are you doing way over there?” the older man’s voice asked, floating in the darkness around them.

“You’ve been complaining about the size of the hospital beds since you woke up,” Tobirama pointed out, desperate for a straw to grasp at. “I thought you would enjoy having more space your first night home.” His excuse was met with a soft snort.

“I was complaining because there wasn’t enough room for you to lay down with me.”

He could have resisted the hand that pulled him back towards the other body – if he could have thought of a good reason to do so. What good was genius, he wondered, when it failed you at the most inopportune times? The last person he had slept in the same bed with had been his own brother when they were young enough to be scared of bad dreams – and even then he’d thought to himself that it was strange to have someone so close when he was trying to fall asleep. Of the handful of times he’d taken a lover to bed he’d never once stayed the night. Now he had Madara’s arm around his waist, a face nuzzling in to the back of his neck, and two long legs twining around his own.

“Mmm,” Madara hummed against his skin. “S’good to be home.”

“It’s…good to have you home,” he lied haltingly.

His companion hummed again and snuggled closer. If it were anyone else in his position right now he would find it hilarious that Madara was apparently a closet snuggler and waste no time mocking him for it. As it was, all he could see in his mind was Hashirama’s pleading face begging him to go along with this just until they could be sure of the older man’s mental state. Tobirama clung to that image and resigned himself to many sleepless nights in his foreseeable future.

Madara fell asleep surprisingly quick yet each time Tobirama tried to slide away from his clutches he only held tighter, a boa constrictor unwilling to release his prey. It was nearly four in the morning by the time Tobirama gave up and settled down as best he could, staring in to the darkness and mentally shifting his schedule around for the next day so he could fit in a nap somewhere. As he had suspected, not much sleep was to be had that night.

The first few days of truly pretending to be married to Madara weren’t anywhere near as bad as he thought they might be. They were just as _weird_ as he had expected, though. Madara, to him, was a cold man who was too quick to anger and never stopped to consider the people around him when he decided on a course of action. As a husband he was an entirely different person and Tobirama had quite a bit of trouble reconciling the two versions of the same man. When he mentioned it to Hashirama his brother had laughed and patted him on the back, spouting some nonsense about finally understanding their friendship.

Perhaps the biggest difference was the patience. Always before the animosity between them had been triggered most often by their utter lack of patience with each other, the way neither of them were willing to allow the other a chance to explain themselves. Madara still had a propensity to snap and snarl, of course, but those moments were tempered by his new habit of walking away to cool his head and coming back to speak again once he had calmed. It made Tobirama wonder how many of the times he’d seen this man storm out of Hashirama’s office had later been followed by him strolling back in with a gruff apology and a calmer attitude. The first time he’d experienced it for himself he had nearly fallen out of his chair in shock.

A very close second for most shocking new trait was how touchy he was. Tobirama spent half of each day tense in anticipation of the next time Madara would walk by and brush fingers down his arm, stroke his hair, or even pull him in for a spontaneous hug. The only person who touched him even half this much was Hashirama and even he kept his fingers to himself much of the time because he knew it made his sibling uncomfortable. It wasn’t as though the touches were bad, per se. It was just really, really weird to be touched by this person in particular.

Of course, the one touch he wished he could put his foot down on was the kissing. He managed to evade all attempts for the first two days until Madara asked him with a hurt frown what the hell was going on. Thankfully, his genius hadn’t failed him then and Tobirama had been able to pulled a concerned face, make up some bullshit on the spot about feeling under the weather and not wanting Madara to catch anything so soon out of the hospital. Even he was amazed when Madara bought that.

Just over a week had passed before Tobirama’s luck ran out.

He was caught off-guard when he least expected it, _where_ he least expected it. The Hokage Tower had become his sanctuary as he buried himself with work to avoid spending as much time as possible in the home that was not actually his home. Since Madara was on light duties while his head tried to put itself back on straight, for the most they didn’t see each other during work hours.

Today, however, their paths crossed at a meeting even a man recovering from injury couldn’t miss. As one of the founders of the village, Madara’s vote carried a lot of weight whenever they gathered to discuss whether or not to consider allowing a new clan to emigrate to Konoha. Tobirama didn’t think much of it, making sure to greet him specifically with a discreet nod and then putting him out of mind for the duration of the meeting. When it was over his head remained bent over a scroll, finishing his notes on the minutes of the meeting while the rest of the gathering filed out of the room. When a hand touched his shoulder he didn’t even bother to look up, only grunted in question.

“Feeling any better?” Madara’s voice asked. Still with his head stuck in a particularly interesting thought he was scribbling down to look in to later, Tobirama nodded absently.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” he said without thinking.

“Oh good.”

Fingers slid under his chin and he was just surprised enough to follow where they moved him, tilting his head up and to the side. His entire body froze in his chair when Madara’s lips met his. Madara was kissing him. He was kissing Uchiha Madara. Life as he knew was officially over.

A small part of his brain noted – without his express permission – that it wasn’t all that bad of a kiss. Madara’s lips were soft and smooth, as warm as one might expect from someone with a fire nature. He used just the right amount of pressure for the kiss to be firm yet soft and not insistent. The fingers under his chin slid down to caress the shape of his throat and Tobirama had difficulty not driving a kunai in to the hand that dared to stray so close to such a vulnerable place on his person.

The protest that rose up died behind his teeth when they pulled apart and he saw the contented, adoring look that had settled over Madara’s features. He looked so hopelessly in love, so happy, and although Tobirama tried to remind himself that underneath the lost memory this man truly hated him, he still didn’t have the heart to ruin this moment for the other.

“Come home early,” Madara said quietly, breath whispering across Tobirama’s lips. Panic flooded him.

“I have a lot of work to do.” Trying to infuse his voice with just the right amount of sad reluctance was an art and he would never again underappreciate an actor’s job.

“Hmph. Work is not important. Your husband is important.”

Such words from someone like the man in front of him rendered Tobirama silent. He would have expected something like that from Hashirama, perhaps, but not Madara. It took a moment for him to think of a reply but he had to wait another to actually use it as the other man dipped down and pressed a second kiss to his lips, still chaste but this time with just a hint of possibilities. If he closed his eyes and pretended this were someone else, he could almost have enjoyed this enough to get lost in it. Almost.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tobirama said at last. Madara granted him a satisfied smile and stepped closer – and this time there was no escaping the intention behind his kiss. This time it was _filthy_.

Tobirama felt a little filthy himself as the other man coaxed his tongue out to play. Every move he made was a deception and it felt so wrong in so many different ways. There was a reason he had never accepted honeypot missions and the most prominent one was the disgust he felt with himself at the very idea of seducing someone just for a mission. He was already rather sparing with his affections and to give them to someone he felt neither attraction nor attachment to was abhorrent to him. As Madara ravished his mouth and drew an involuntary noise of pleasure from him, Tobirama felt like the lowest being on the planet.

“Home early,” Madara rasped when they finally parted. Tobirama swallowed thickly.

“I’ll try.” His voice was quiet to hide the vortex of emotions inside him and he was grateful when Madara released him, stepping away and striding out of the room with one last sultry look.

Then he was alone to very seriously consider exactly what it was he had gotten himself in to. Tobirama cursed his inability to resist his brother’s terribly effective puppy eyes and that stupid moment of humanity which led to him agreeing to this farce. At the time he hadn’t even considered this sort of situation. The only hardships he thought he would have to put up with were playing nice, a few extra touches, and avoiding starting most of the fights he typically got in to with Madara. Sex hadn’t even crossed his mind.

How often did married couples have sex? If he went by the example of his brother one would think it was every other night but he’d always thought Hashirama and Mito must have been an exception. Surely not every couple was fucking like bunnies the way those two were. At least he hoped not, otherwise he would have to call everything off as soon as possible. It was dangerous enough that he was playing with Madara’s emotions by pretending to be married to him, risking the eventual fall out when it inevitably came to light that it had all been a lie. There was absolutely no way he could go so far as to actually sleep with the man.

Madara was an attractive man and Tobirama was self-aware enough to admit that he had grudgingly appreciated the other’s body on occasion, almost smugly using him as fantasy material when he needed to relieve a little tension and feeling no shame for defiling the man’s image. That didn’t mean Tobirama was ready to crawl in to bed with him. Neither of them cared for the other, not really, no matter what Madara’s brain was telling him at the moment.

So how the hell was he supposed to get around this without Madara realizing that something was up? In his head he could hear his cousin Touka mocking him and telling him he had gotten himself in to quite the pickle. It was her favorite phrase only because she knew just how annoyingly whimsical he found it.

Tobirama forced his hands to stay steady as he gathered his notes and tapped them all in to a neat pile, tucking them away in his desk and striding out of the room with carefully measured steps. He kept pace as he walked through the tower, making sure he didn’t appear to be in any sort of hurry. A floor above him Hashirama’s chakra shone like a beacon, all alone is his office. Thankfully he was still alone by the time Tobirama had paced up the stairs and meandered down the hallway to knock on his door.

“Come in,” his brother’s voice called.

Stepping inside, Tobirama shut the door carefully behind him before walking over and slowly sinking down in to the seat across from the Hokage’s desk. Only then did he release the constraints he had placed upon himself and allowed the panic he was feeling to show on his face. Hashirama nearly dropped his ink brush when he looked up and saw the expression his little sibling was wearing.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Hashirama, I don’t want to have sex with Madara.”

Large brown eyes blinked at him in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”

“He wants – said – he was trying to talk me in to coming home early so that we could have _sex_! For the love of kami brother _help me_!”

Really Tobirama didn’t think it was necessary for Hashirama to burst out laughing. In fact he found it rather rude. Waiting for the laughter to stop seemed to take forever and eventually he reached across the desk to swat his brother upside the head. Hashirama jerked under the blow and wiped at the tears of mirth leaking from his eyes.

“Of all the things I expected you to say,” the older man giggled, “that wasn’t one of them. Give me a moment to catch my breath here!”

“This isn’t funny, Anija. He thinks we’re married and he wants to have sex with his husband but _I_ know I’m not his husband so what kind of person would I be if I went along with this? And how the hell do I tell him no without him figuring out that something’s going on?”

“I…see your point.” As quickly as it had appeared all the mirth drained back out of Hashirama, the reality of the situation hitting him at last. “Obviously you can’t go through with it. He would be furious when he regained his memory later.”

“You think? And what about me? It’s not as though I even want to sleep with the bastard!”

“Now, now, is there really a need for name calling?” Hashirama shook a finger at him. “He’s been nothing but kind to you since this entire ordeal started and I’d thought you were finally seeing that he wasn’t nearly as bad as you think he is.”

“Priorities, Anija! Spout your rainbows and friendship crap later; we have more important things to deal with right now!”

Hashirama shrugged in reluctant acquiescence and looked down at the surface of his desk with a light pout. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts as they tried to figure out what they were going to do. With each minute that passed Tobirama found himself closer and closer to an honest-to-god panic attack. If they couldn’t think of anything he was entirely prepared to throw caution to the wind and risk Madara’s mental state by telling him the truth. To him, it was better than the alternative.

At last Hashirama straightened in his chair with a bright expression and Tobirama leaned towards him, eager for any idea, no matter how bad or far-fetched. It would be something they could work with at least and tweak the details of later.

“How about if I go over there with you after we leave the office? Surely he won’t try anything while you have company.” He grinned up at his younger brother, who stared back in wonder.

“That might just work,” Tobirama admitted.

“You could act all reluctant as though you were trying to get rid of me and that should fool Madara in to thinking you want to be alone as much as he does. I’ll have my secretary shift my schedule around tomorrow so I don’t have to be in so early. Hopefully I can stay late enough that he’s too tired to do anything but pass out after I leave.”

Tobirama had never come so close to kissing another person’s feet with gratitude before. He reached down to place one of his hands over top of the older man’s and said with deep sincerity, “Thank you.” Hashirama beamed up at him again with teary eyes, happy to be shown such heartfelt gratitude from his precious younger sibling. Normally averse to such displays, Tobirama simply let him have his moment for once. He’d earned it.

As it had a habit of doing, time passed more quickly when he had something he dreaded waiting for him at the end of the day. Evening fell much too soon and, no matter how he tried to stretch his paperwork, eventually Tobirama knew that he should head back to Madara’s house at the edge of the Uchiha district. He stopped by his brother’s office and they headed out together, walking in silence for the first while as he lost himself in nervous worry. When they drew closer to their destination Hashirama began to babble at him in a cheerfully oblivious manner while he himself assumed an expression of exhausted annoyance.

His ‘husband’ awaited him in the living room and he was very obviously not happy to see Hashirama trailing behind him. Tobirama gave him a helpless look and calmly accepted the peck on one cheek that served as his greeting.

“What is he doing here?” Madara hissed in his ear. Tobirama licked his lips anxiously.

“Can’t get rid of him,” he mumbled. “He’s as clingy as a leech today.”

Hashirama, bless his soul, played his part well. Despite one man pretending to subtly ask him to leave and another blatantly telling him to go back to his own house, Hashirama cheerfully nattered on about everything and nothing. Since a messenger had already been sent to Mito telling her not to expect him home, he was perfectly comfortable to stay and intrude upon their evening well past the point when both of his hosts began to yawn with exhaustion. Eventually Madara gave up and went to bed alone, leaving the two brothers to continue chatting in the den alone. He did, however, make a point of kissing Tobirama rather thoroughly before giving Hashirama a pointed look on his way out of the room.

By the time Tobirama let his sibling leave and tiptoed to bed, Madara was barely awake enough to roll over and cuddle up to his side. Instead of trying to escape the embrace, Tobirama decided to just accept what victories were his and call it a night, closing his eyes to wait for sleep. It was the first night he fell asleep without first lying awake for several hours.

After that it was as though the games had begun. It didn’t happen every single day but Tobirama was suddenly dodging frequent attempts to get him in to bed with someone he supposedly should have jumped at the chance to lay down with. With each time it became harder and harder to come up with a good reason not to without insulting Madara or hurting his feelings. The excuses and carefully prepared interruptions only grew more inventive and ridiculous with time until one day Tobirama was standing in his brother’s office holding a brilliant yellow balloon in one hand and wrangling a child with the other, wondering how the hell he’d even gotten there.

Thankfully, Hashirama took the child off his hands. Tobirama made it three streets away from Madara’s home before he realized he was still holding the balloon. When he let it go it floated up and away like some kind of metaphor for his retreating sanity. Scowling, he stomped harder as he continued walking.

Madara took one look at him when he arrived home and immediately waved a hand behind his back in an attempt to subtly put out the candle that looked as though it had just been lit. Standing in the doorway and looking around at the unusually tidy house, Tobirama actually felt a shadow of guilt. He was only trying to be moral about this and do the right thing but Madara had no way of knowing that. The man was putting in so much effort and being so kind about never getting what he actually wanted, never complaining beyond a few grumbles and never yelling at Tobirama for things he ‘couldn’t control’.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself saying heavily, sinking down on to the couch with little grace. Madara shrugged and waved away the smoke before coming over to sit next to him.

“Bad day?”

“A long one. Very long.”

Madara lifted one of Tobirama’s arms and fit himself underneath it, plastering himself along the warm exhausted body of his husband. Too tired to even care, Tobirama simply let him. He was a bit surprised to find his arm curling itself around the older man’s shoulders but didn’t bother to fight it.

“Dinner should be ready soon. Shall we make it an early night after we eat?”

“Please.” Tobirama closed his eyes and tilted his head back, then added, “Thank you.”

His partner grunted and said nothing more, allowing him a few moments of quiet relaxation. It was actually kind of nice in spite of who he had draped against him. Moments like these were the sort of thing he never would have expected when he envisioned being married to Madara. To be fair though, Tobirama hadn’t spent much time envisioning married life to anyone before, let alone to a person he had devoted so many years to hating.

Neither of them was in any particular hurry to move from their position. It was only when the egg timer in the other room went off that they unwound themselves from each other and shuffled in to the kitchen for a late evening meal. Afterwards Madara declared that he would take care of the cleanup and encouraged Tobirama to head off to bed.

As he lay in bed and listened to the sound of dishes being washed down the hall, Tobirama went over the last few weeks in his head. If he ignored the fact that it was Madara he could almost say that it had been a good few weeks. Coming home wasn’t as bad when all he had to deal with was a couple of kisses and some conversation instead of getting nagged by his brother or lectured by his sister in law. When they weren’t trying to kill each other Madara was a surprisingly good conversationalist and he actually told some pretty intelligent jokes. He took his turns cooking without complaint, cleaned up after himself more than Hashirama ever had, and he didn’t hog the blankets at night.

In Madara’s head, they were simply living their regular married life. The man rubbed his shoulders when he looked stressed, cooked his favorite dinner when he managed to successfully bargain the Sarutobi clan in to donating part of their wealth as they joined the village, and kissed him goodnight every evening as though he couldn’t wait to see him again in the morning. For most of his life Tobirama had been without a good example of what a healthy relationship should look like and it was mind-bending that he should find it here, of all places.

Yet, it was all fake. And Tobirama had no idea why a part of him actually mourned that fact. His only theory was, now that he had seen what the possibility looked like, he yearned for a true relationship similar to this one.

Sleep eluded him for a long time that night, although he pretended to be asleep already by the time his companion came to bed. When he woke the next morning he rolled over to find himself alone and was filled with relief. At least this way he wouldn’t have to fend off any early morning advances or feel like a cur for enjoying a few wake-up kisses. It was hardly his fault that Madara was a good kisser.

Tobirama ate breakfast by himself, feeling utterly relaxed despite the surprisingly few number of hours he slept. He’d gotten so very little time to himself over the past while and it had started to wear on him, not ever giving him a chance to unwind. After he had eaten he dressed and strolled towards the tower in a leisurely fashion, idly wondering where Madara had gotten off to. His husband had slowly been working more and more, trying to get back in to the swing of things but also trying not to overwork himself after such grievous injuries. Likely he was in his office at the moment. Tobirama wondered if they might break for lunch together as he wandered up a few floors to his own office and went at his paperwork with an extra drop of enthusiasm.

Nearly an entire hour passed before his first disturbance. One would think he would be annoyed by it but in truth that was actually almost a record of some sort. There were times he wondered if his brother might secretly be a sensor as well since the older man seemed to have some kind of sixth sense for when he was in the building. Even more unusual, instead of bounding in and jabbering a morning greeting at him like a hyper puppy, Hashirama only poked his head in and stared at him with wide, almost panicked eyes.

“I need you to come to my office,” he said in a rush. Tobirama raised an eyebrow curiously but dropped his brush right away and stood from the desk.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s bad,” Hashirama muttered under his breath. “It’s bad, it’s bad, it’s very bad!”

Worried now, Tobirama hastened to follow when the other’s head disappeared back out in to the hallway. He hurried after the ends of long brown hair all the way up the staircase and in to his brother’s office – and then his instincts sang and he only just barely dodged the fist that swung wildly at his head. Bending over backwards and twisting out of the way, he came back up with both hands at the ready to defend himself.

Madara glared back at him, fists clenched and body tense. The pupils of his eyes were red with his clan’s dōjutsu but the rims around them were red as well as though he’d been crying or suffering from sleep deprivation. At least the second Tobirama could immediately discount. He’d spent the night next to this man himself.

“What the hell, Madara?” he demanded. The other snarled, more feral that Tobirama had ever seen him.

“That’s what I was going to ask _you_ , you fucking _liar_!”

“Eh? I haven’t even seen you yet today; what would I have lied about?” Confused, though still wary, Tobirama lowered his hands somewhat in an effort to appear as less of a threat. Instead of placating the older man it only seemed to incense him. Madara stepped forward to take a fistful of his shirt and for some reason all Tobirama could focus on was how his hair stood up in artful disarray, spiking out in a perfect frame around his features.

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks,” Madara hissed in his face. “Sleeping in my bed like the snake you are, traipsing around my home as if you belonged there, _kissing me_ –!”

Nearly choking himself with fury, he cut himself off like just saying the words was almost too much. Tobirama stared back at him with dawning horror as he realized exactly what was going on: he’d remembered. If Madara had only figured out the lie without regaining he memories he would have been angry, true, but he would have been hurt more than anything. The beast before him was a creature of nothing but rage – and rightly so if he had indeed remembered everything. Tobirama couldn’t deny he would have felt the same were their positions reversed and this moment was the entire reason he had been against this charade from the start.

“If we’re pointing fingers,” he mumbled, “it bears mentioning that this was entirely Hashirama’s idea and that I did try to talk him out of it.”

“You still did it! You _played_ me! You pretended to be married to me and you let me act like some lovey-dovey, dewy eyed heroine in a bad romance novel! I bet you were laughing it up the whole time behind my back!”

“Now that’s not fair,” Hashirama interjected. “He didn’t laugh at you! He was very concerned for you!”

“Oh don’t feed me that bullshit; this stupid fucking block of ice doesn’t even know _how_ to worry about another human being!”

“Fuck you!” Tobirama flared, grasping Madara’s wrist and twisting to get him to drop the grip on his shirt. “I _protected_ you and this is the thanks I get? You could at least take two god damned seconds to listen to our side of the story. But no! Uchiha Madara is always fucking right!”

“You’re the one that always has to be right! Being a genius doesn’t make you smart!”

“That is literally the definition of genius, dumb ass.”

“I will tear you limb from limb you self-centered prick!”

“Guys!” Hashirama bulled his way in between them, shoving them both back with a hand on each of their chests. “Calm down, both of you! And reign in that killing intent before you terrify my secretary!”

Tobirama listened, albeit reluctantly, but Madara would have none of it. He rounded on Hashirama with no less fury in his face than he had looked at Tobirama with, raising one finger to point at his best friend accusingly.

“And you! He’d better be lying, Hashirama; this had better not have been your idea!”

“The doctors said your amnesia made you unstable!” Although it never once appeared to enter Hashirama’s mind to cower away, he did restrain himself from moving forward to try and placate his friend with hugs like he normally might try to do. Even he could see that such a gesture would not be appreciated right then.

“Don’t get pissy with him when this is actually all your own fault,” Tobirama snarled. “You’re the one who decided we were married. All he did was convince me to go along with it to protect your tiny little brain from overloading.”

“I refuse to believe that! I would never!”

Pushed beyond his limit, Madara lunged around his friend with his fingers extended like claws, reaching for Tobirama’s eyes. The younger man was able to dodge the overzealous attack easily as Hashirama caught it for him, wrapping both arms around Madara and twisting to slam him down to the ground like they were sparring. Wheezing as the wind was knocked out of him, Madara immediately rolled back to his feet and backed up across the room.

From there, the conversation hardly improved very much. All three of them yelled, although Hashirama mostly only yelled to be heard over the both of them, and he spent much of his time calming one or the other of them down only for whichever it was to get riled again just minutes later.

When finally Madara could take no more and stormed out of the office with a heated glare for both of the Senju brother’s, hours had passed them by with almost nothing said but various insults and accusations. Standing dazedly in the aftermath, Tobirama turned to give his brother a mockingly raised eyebrow, silently asking what exactly he’d thought would happen once the Uchiha figured everything out. Surely his brother hadn’t thought Madara would just accept it all with a sunshine smile?

Barely resisting storming out himself, Tobirama left as calmly as he could and headed straight for home. He made it halfway there before realizing that his feet were unconsciously taking him towards the Uchiha compound instead of the Senju district and quickly rerouted. Upon arriving home he was dismayed to realize that nearly all of his possessions would still be scattered around Madara’s house and immediately started to blister the air with a few choice swear words. How the hell was he supposed the get them all back without one of them losing either their tempers or a limb?

Time passed strangely now that Tobirama was no longer stuck in the charade of being married to Madara. He hadn’t even realized the routines he had fallen in to until suddenly they were disrupted and he was left drifting, grasping for a familiarity that should never had been there in the first place. Being unable to fall asleep at night because the bed felt cold was ridiculous; hadn’t he despised it when Madara cuddled up to him, taking up all the space and keeping him awake? Sitting at home in the evenings he found himself constantly turning to speak to someone who wasn’t there. When he passed the older man in the Tower hallways a part of him instinctively turned his head, presenting a cheek to receive a soft affectionate kiss that he would then remind himself he didn’t even want.

Madara, of course, took him turning his head as an insult and snarled at him every time. It took all of Tobirama’s willpower not to accept the obvious invitation to start a fight – but there was no stopping his natural instinct to bare his teeth and snarl back. A lifetime of habit could not be broken by just a few months – had it really been a few months? It felt like only a couple of weeks – of careful acting.

All things considered, that was probably the worst part about the aftermath he was dealing with. Impossible though it seemed, he had apparently been conditioned already to respond to Madara’s presence in a certain way and that response clashed directly with years of preconceived notions as well as evoked the strangest feelings inside him. Why should he feel guilty when he believed he’d committed no wrong? Why should Madara’s anger and rejection pull at his mind like a shame-faced child who knew they’d done something bad? It infuriated him that he couldn’t make these feelings go away.

It almost felt as though he _cared_ even though he knew that was a stupid thought. Of course he didn’t care.

During all this Tobirama was eternally grateful that, at the very least, Hashirama left him alone. His brother was too occupied trying to smooth over his own fight with Madara to whine at him that he should try and make nice. While Tobirama was of the opinion that both of them had been acting in Madara’s best interest – despite the stupidity of the actual plan – he was just as happy to allow Hashirama to deal with the repercussions while affording himself the privacy to work through these conflicting feelings on his own.

Close to three weeks had passed before Madara deigned to speak to either one of them for more than the time it took to curse their names. His capitulation very likely had much to do with Hashirama’s relentless pouting and therefore it was a surprise to no one when they slowly began to talk to each other once more, awkward jilted conversations that were riddled with hesitation from both sides for different reasons. And of course things were wildly different considering Madara’s treatment of Tobirama. That changed very little in regards to the name cursing and teeth baring. Anger continued to color their every interaction even long after they finally gave in and forced themselves to speak on a purely work-related basis.

When finally they did speak of their situation it was neither a calm nor particularly lengthy conversation. In fact, it couldn’t truly be considered a ‘conversation’. Having barricaded himself alone in the Records Room on the excuse that his next mission required information about the shinobi he would be assigned with, Tobirama tensed immediately upon feeling Madara’s chakra approach. He wondered whether or not the older man even knew he was there and tried to remain as quiet as possible.

So far he’d gotten through nearly the entire day without interacting with his former fake husband even once and he hoped to continue avoiding that headache.

However, it appeared fate was not on his side. Madara came thundering straight in to the room that Tobirama was standing in, back to the door as he slid the last of the scrolls he’d been holding in to their designated slots. Assuming as blank a look as he possibly could, he peered over his shoulder just in time to catch a brief flash of consternation on Madara’s face.

“What are _you_ doing here?” the other spat at him, recovering enough to twist his face in irritation. Tobirama snorted softly and turned away without answering, dismissive. “Hey! I’m talking to you.”

“No, you are yelling at me,” Tobirama corrected him stiffly. “Which I do not appreciate. I happen to know you are capable of communicating without sounding like a complete barbarian and if you cannot force yourself to do so now then kindly fuck off.”

“You little–!”

Before Tobirama could react to the sudden footsteps approaching him, a hand appeared on his shoulder and forced him around to be confronted with an angry faced framed by spiky black locks. Stupidly, his mind felt this was the perfect moment to remind him of the sensation that hair made whispering against his skin while warm hands traced around his waist at night.

“You are so fucking arrogant,” Madara hissed in his face. Tobirama peeled his lips back in a feral snarl.

“And you don’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

“How very rich coming from the man who presumed himself welcome in my home!”

“See? That’s what I mean!” Refusing to shrink down, Tobirama stood a little taller instead, lording his extra two inches over the other. “I was perfectly content to mind my own business but you’re the one who always needs to start these pointless, childish fights.”

“The only reason you know a damn thing about me is because you _couldn’t_ mind your own business! Do you even comprehend how badly you’ve violated my privacy? You invited yourself in to my home, my life, my bed! Are there no boundaries you won’t cross!?”

Jutting his chin forward in offense, it barely even registered to Tobirama how extraordinarily close they were to each other now. Their clothing brushed together with every movement, their breath ghosting across each other’s faces. Despite how angry they both were a part of him registered this as familiar; he had gotten much too used to having this man up inside his personal space.

“You know damn well what boundaries I refused to cross,” he hissed. “But perhaps I shouldn’t have. Maybe if I bent over for you like you so obviously wanted me to it might have loosened that stick you’ve got up _your_ ass.”

“Fuck! You!”

“I think we both know you’d like to.”

Visibly quaking with rage, Madara gnashed his teeth together and clenched his fists while Tobirama delivered the man the most sardonic smirk he was capable of. For a few long seconds the two of them hung suspended, neither speaking as Madara’s chakra lashed and whipped through air around them. As much as he tried to appear unaffected Tobirama could feel his own chakra rising in answer, simmering just beneath his skin and ready to boil over in a hundred different ways.

When the older man moved he saw it coming and he did nothing to stop it. Tobirama refused to groan at the kiss that seared through him, refused to whine at the sensation of a large hand gripping fistfuls of his hair and pulling harshly. His head thudded painfully against the shelves as he was pressed back in to them none too gently but he didn’t care. He snarled as best he could against Madara’s mouth, biting at the lips ravaging his own and digging his nails in through the back of the older man’s shirt. One perfectly toned thigh forced its way in between his own and all he did was rotate his hips to grind down on it, shamelessly taking his pleasure.

Everything he had denied himself before, everything he had tried so hard to convince himself that he wanted only in fantasy, he could feel it all dancing at his fingertips. Something balled up and tucked away inside his chest burst open as he grasped those possibilities and dug in his claws, taking without shame and giving back only what it pleased him to give. What guilt was there to stop him this time?

His shirt fell open with the sound of torn stitching but he couldn’t find it in him to care about possibly ruining his clothes; not when he was too busy arching his back for the nails dragging down his chest.  Warm wetness told him at least one of those nails had broken the skin. Perhaps that shouldn’t have had him hardening in his trousers but the adrenaline of the situation was already kicking in, setting his head to spinning and making him sensitive to practically every touch. Instead of thinking too deeply about it he ground down on Madara’s thigh again and drank down the growl which reverberated through his mouth as the other pressed closer.

Weeks of mutual sexual frustration while Madara chased him and Tobirama refused to allow himself to be caught, all of it came to a sudden and violent head as the two of them pawed at each other, bodies rocking together and mouths kissing, licking, biting, all of it at once with no discretion. When a hand began to pull at the fastenings of his pants, Tobirama arched and felt no need to stop it from happening. Not when he could clearly feel Madara’s other hand scrambling to do the same for his own clothing.

There was absolutely no gentleness about it. The moment his pants fell around his ankles and Tobirama kicked them away his leg was hoisted up roughly to be forced around Madara’s waist. Bitten off grunts and moans punctured the air around them as their cocks ground together and Madara’s hand slid around to press insistently at his hole. For a moment Tobirama wondered if the man intended to take him dry. Sure to be extremely painful but he wasn’t positive he would bother to stop him if it happened; he was already too far gone for that. Not that he didn’t feel a slight twinge of relief when he felt something slick being spread around his entrance.

Instead of one finger he felt two pressing in to him and dropped his head back. Madara might think he was being punishing and Tobirama would let him think that. There was no need for the older man to know how much he enjoyed a good round of rough sex on occasion. Blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue, trying to suppress the moan clawing its way up his throat as the two fingers inside him scissored, stretching him just that little bit too quickly.

Keeping up the rhythm of his rolling hips, filling the empty room with his choked off grunts, Madara pressed in a third finger and curled them in search of Tobirama’s prostate. The younger man was hardly about to question why he bothered, not with such hot pleasure searing through him and finally drawing a sharp cry from his lips.

“Should have known you’d have a tight ass,” Madara hissed, dropping his face to sink teeth in to the pale throat exposed to him. Tobirama deliberately clenched around his digits.

“And I should have known you’d be too slow to satisfy,” he growled back.

Madara snarled at him and sank his teeth deeper at the same time as he pressed a fourth finger inside, not even attempting to be delicate. Clenching again, although this time it was involuntary, Tobirama tried to recall the last time he’d even had sex. It was a little difficult to think with so many sensations rushing through him though and he gave up in favor of undulating his body to ride the fingers behind him as well as push himself forward against the cock in front.

He could read the impatience on Madara’s face as the digits inside him were pulled away and sticky fingers hoisted his body higher up. Tobirama wrapped both legs around the older man’s waist and braced himself against the shelves behind him as something blunt and thick nudged his entrance. Eyes locking on to Madara’s, they stared each other down like they were trading silent battle cries until Madara thrust up sharply and Tobirama pushed down heavily, impaling himself and curling forward on instinct as he was filled entirely.

Fingertips digging in so deep they were like to leave marks, Madara gave his impromptu lover no time to adjust. The wordless sound that dragged out of Tobirama as he pulled out and thrust back in had Madara shuddering and bulling his body even closer until there was barely enough room for him to roll his hips back and do it again.

Things degraded rather quickly from there. In a direct contrast to how they had treated each other over the last few months, there wasn’t an ounce of tenderness to be found between them now as both of them took their pleasure with no apologies. Madara fucked the tight hole surrounding him without mercy and Tobirama rode the cock in his ass like he was getting paid for it. Even as they clung to one another their hands clawed at exposed skin, teeth sinking in to unprotected flesh. Bruises blossomed and blood ran as all the frustration and anger between them built up towards what promised to be an explosive release.

Unsurprisingly – in Tobirama’s opinion, anyway – it was Madara who reached his end first. To the older man’s credit it was only by a few seconds but Tobirama was just petty enough to take his victories where he found them. When the steady rhythm of thrusts began to break down he clamped his teeth hard into the shoulder his forehead had been resting against, using both hands to pull harshly on long black hair. Madara answered with an angry hiss in his ear that he couldn’t hear over the rushing of his own blood before hitching his legs up higher to fuck him just a little deeper. The new angle aimed directly for his prostate on every stroke and Tobirama clenched helplessly as he felt himself approaching those crystalline heights, body reaching, mind blank, hips moving on nothing but instinct and sheer desperation.

He had just enough time to enjoy the broken noise that Madara made as he stiffened, filling Tobirama and shuddering as his body tried to keep thrusting through the pleasure, before the younger man felt his own body snapping taut and the pressure releasing as he spilled himself between them, cock untouched. His teeth sank deeper in to the flesh they were already embedded in, muffling the wail that clawed its way up his throat and disguising it instead as a drawn out moan.

Seconds passed and slowly turned in to minutes as the two of them hung suspended, trying to catch their breath and wrap their minds around what the hell had just happened. When Madara suddenly pulled out entirely with no warning Tobirama gave a sharp cry, body jerking as sensitive nerves were abused yet again. He just barely got him feet underneath himself in time when his legs were dropped and Madara all but flung himself away.

Both of them in states of partial dress, blood smeared across both of their mouths, bite wounds and scratch marks littered across their skin, the two of them looked each other up and down slowly. Then Madara sneered, reaching for his pants and yanking them on violently.

“This never happened,” he snarled, hands holding the ruined panels of his shirt together as though to protect his modesty in the aftermath.

“Was it everything you dreamed it would be?” Tobirama taunted with a leer.

Madara grimaced like the very thought of what he’d done disgusting him now and whipped around, hurrying from the room. Whatever had brought him here in the first place apparently could be dealt with later.

Now standing alone, covered in more than one of his own bodily fluids with, hole clenching and leaking down his thighs, Tobirama slumped backwards against the shelves that had only just finished holding him up. While his body thrummed with satiated pleasure his heart felt cold and empty, his emotions more confused than they had ever been. He felt _used_.

Which, of course, was absolutely ridiculous. Surely he had taken from Madara just as much as the other had taken from him. There had been no power imbalance and no secrets this time to hold them back; he should feel triumphant that Madara obviously still wanted him so much. So why did he feel as though he had given away a part of himself that he hadn’t known he could give, a part he couldn’t even identify? Why should he feel ashamed of both himself and his actions? It made no sense and yet he found himself unable to shake off those feelings as he redressed in the scraps that had once been perfectly serviceable clothing.

His mind felt as empty as his chest did, hardly able to recall what he had come here for in the first place. Records, obviously, although which ones specifically escaped him. Whatever it was it couldn’t possibly be more important than his sudden driving need to be as far away from this room as he possibly could. The scent of their coupling hung thick in the air and his eyes felt inexorably drawn back to staring at where his head had displaced a number of scrolls. He should fix that.

Leaving the room felt a lot like running away and Tobirama wondered what it was exactly he was running from. The memory of what he had just done? Madara?

Himself?


	2. Chapter 2

If Tobirama thought he could avoid his brother’s teary eyed face forever, he was terribly wrong. He was granted a reprieve only until such time as Hashirama felt he himself was no longer on Madara’s dirty list and then it was time for a nice long game of ‘guilt brother in to doing something using sad puppy eyes’. Luckily Tobirama had many years of practice denying that expression as well as quite a few solid reasons not to follow through with what his sibling wanted from him.

There was absolutely no way in hell he was apologizing to Madara and trying to make friends with him. They hadn’t been friends before this entire debacle and the aftermath of it all was more than enough to convince him that they never would be. Not that there had ever been a time when he thought that was an option. In point of fact, he told himself, he would be happier if they never saw each other again.

Yet, despite his conviction that the two of them would never peacefully coexist while they were both in their right minds, Tobirama was frustrated by how consistently he found himself thinking of Madara. The older man popped up in his thoughts at the strangest times and sometimes for the strangest reasons. He found himself reading a report and thinking to himself that Madara would call whoever penned it an idiot. When ordering food for lunch he would peruse the menu and pick out which items he thought Madara would enjoy. It was maddening.

Perhaps the worst was that he still tossed in bed at night, unconsciously waiting for a body to press itself against him and keep him warm as he fell asleep. Each time he noticed his thoughts drifting along that vein he rather viciously reminded himself that he didn’t give a flying fuck what Madara was doing and that he didn’t miss the man in any way possible. For all he cared, the idiot could have found some other poor sod to wrap himself around and inflict his dubious charms upon. The thought of that absolutely did not send veins of ice down his spine nor did it wrap his stomach in white hot threads of jealousy. He had no reason to be jealous because he didn’t care.

After what _never happened_ in the Record’s Room, his plan had been to avoid Madara as much as possible at least until most of the anger had worn off. It worked for a while – until Hashirama started playing dirty. His brother was operating under the misguided impression that there was a way for the two of them to somehow make peace and no matter how many times they both told him that such a thing was impossible he persisted in his attempts to force them. His intentions were kind and good. His methods were underhanded and annoying.

It started as subtle as Hashirama ever tried to be, with him calling them both in to his office at the same time or asking them both to stay behind after a meeting to discuss some of the points gone over in more detail. When both of them refused to interact beyond a few heated glares he began to slowly set aside any pretense at subtlety.

He invited them both over for dinner and made a very teary eyed speech about how important it was to him that all his loved ones get along. Seeing as how he’d tried that one before, neither Madara nor Tobirama felt any guilt about getting up and storming away in between one sentence and the next. Since that didn’t work he evidently thought a more public venue might hem them in and tricked them both in to meeting him at a restaurant that was, ironically enough, both of their favorites. They spent the entire meal glaring at each other across the table, their body language insular and defensive and their sentences – when they deigned to respond to him speaking – were short and clipped.

Refusing to give up, Hashirama fell back on his own habits and dragged them both out to one of his favorite gambling dens. He spent the night gleefully flitting from one game to another as they both struggled to keep him from betting away all of his pocket money. After a while Madara simply gave up and sat back with a smirk, taking obvious pleasure in watching as Tobirama continued to argue with his brother. That night ended with the two Senju brother’s wrestling over a purse of money and both of them escorting a moping Hashirama home so he could whine to his wife that, this time, losing his money hadn’t even been fun.

Once he was certain that his sibling had actually gone inside and wasn’t going to try to sneak out again to ruin his own reputation further, Tobirama heaved an exhausted sigh and dragged both hands down his face. Having followed along simply to laugh at him a bit more, Madara watched him with a smug look, chuckling darkly.

“That’s your own best friend you’re having a laugh at,” Tobirama snapped. Madara only shrugged.

“No it isn’t. I’m laughing at your pathetic attempts to rein him in. Or I should say your failure to rein him in.”

“Fuck off.”

Moving to step around the other and head home, he was frustrated when Madara blocked his path, smug expression quickly morphing in to a mocking one. “What’s the matter, Senju? Got somewhere to be?”

“I have a long day tomorrow, Uchiha, so get the hell out of my way.”

“Hm. No, I think it would be more amusing for me not to move.”

“I thought I told you to fuck off!”

With a low growl, Tobirama reached out and shoved at the older man’s shoulder, meaning to push past him and stomp off towards home. His plan backfired when Madara tried to shove him back. The two of them grappled, pitting raw strength against raw strength, and when Tobirama found his back slammed up against the side of Hashirama’s home he consoled himself with the knowledge that it was only because Madara happened to have more natural bulk than he did.

He had to clench his jaw to stifle a gasp at the sudden proximity between them, Madara’s body hemming him in until they were breathing the same air, so close a part of him instinctively uncoiled as though suddenly he felt safe now. Ridiculous. How could anyone feel safe with this beast huffing in their face?

“How dare you put your hands on my person?” Madara demanded.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to,” he bit back.  

“You seemed to have little problem with before.” The older man glanced down at the points where their bodies were meshed together and then grinned lecherously. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say you enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed what, you societal menace? Nothing happened, remember?”

Madara dropped his lewd expression so they could spend another few moments glaring at one another, as seemed to be their favorite activity when forced within twenty feet of each other. He appeared to be trying to think of an appropriately scathing comeback but Tobirama had had quite enough. Today had been long and tomorrow would be longer with all the meetings he had scheduled. All he wanted was to go home and fall in to bed for a few sweet hours of blissful unconsciousness. With that in mind he tilted his head forward, looking up at Madara through his eyelashes in a way that could be either sultry or intimidating, depending on how he meant it. Right now he narrowed his eyes and went for intimidating.

“So how about you just get your hands off of me before I break them and we can both calmly go our separate ways.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Not backing down in the slightest, Madara tilted his own head at a menacing angle, the same one he used just before attacking.

“You don’t think I could do it?” Tobirama murmured in a dangerous tone. “I could take you apart, Uchiha.”

“Go on then, give it your _best shot_ ,” the other invited him mockingly.

Unlike the last time, it wasn’t clear which one of them moved towards the other first. One moment their eyes were locked as though they could stare each other in to submission and the next they were kissing frantically, pressed up against the wall of Hashirama’s home, hidden from view of passersby only by the darkness and a row of chakra-grown hedges.

Tobirama distantly acknowledged the flash of déjà vu for their position but he had no more concentration to spare for anything after that. His hands were already pulling at the obi holding Madara’s robes closed, arching his spine and letting his head fall back as teeth began to nibble at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. A shudder passed through him when he felt the other man tugging inelegantly at the fasteners of his trousers, and then again as they were opened and the chilled night air brushed against his heated skin.

As soon as Madara’s obi loosened and his robes fell open Tobirama forced one hand between them, using the other to pull his companion closer. Taking both their cocks in one hand, he gripped perhaps just a bit too tight and dragged his fist from root to tip, extracting a harsh moan from his own throat. It had been weeks since he had been shoved against a wall in a situation similar to this one, weeks in which he hadn’t dared to so much as touch himself for fear of whose face he would imagine at his peak. A vicious, petty part of him hoped that Madara had been in the same state. Most of him, however, just hoped that they were both equally worried about this being over as quickly as it had started.

“Fuck,” Madara panted against his neck, barely audible over the way they were both gasping for air already. “Tobirama…”

Hearing his name in that voice, in that breathy tone, Tobirama arched and moved his hand just a little bit faster. He felt his lips part and heard his own voice whispering Madara’s name in return but it felt like someone else’s actions. This couldn’t be him so desperate for Madara’s touch, could it? He couldn’t fathom why knowing that it was _him_ Madara was calling for made his blood run hotter, his heart beat faster.

When the other moaned his name again Tobirama raised his head from where it rested against the walls of his brother’s house, hand not slowing in its rhythm. He considered warning the other to be a little quieter so they wouldn’t get caught but decided to take his chances. This absolutely definitely had to be the last time he let Madara so close to him and if he wanted to enjoy the man’s noises while he had the chance, that was his own business. So instead he bowed his neck forward instead, inhaling Madara’s smoky scent and tracing a pale ear with his tongue. The man whined under his attentions and left off nibbling at his neck in favor of pulling back just far enough to capture his mouth in another kiss.

If there was one thing he couldn’t deny Madara was damn good at, it was kissing. They might not get along in any other aspect but in this they were perfectly matched, moving together with no communication needed. It wasn’t so much a fight for dominance as it was a choreographed dance that they both instinctively knew.

Tobirama’s head spun faster and faster as he felt his body tensing and he really hoped Madara was as close as he was because he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back the release he could feel building. Dragging his tongue across the older man’s, he released a frantic noise and used his free hand to grope for one of the ones fisted in his clothing, tugging it downward to join his own. His partner took the hint easily and wrapped large fingers around his own so they were both fisting their cocks together at the same time. A second noise escaped Tobirama and he forced them to move faster.

Barely a few seconds later he pressed their mouths harder together to stifle his own moans, cock jerking in their double hold as he came hard. Madara swallowed his sounds enthusiastically, chasing them even as he chased his own end, not allowing either of their hands to stop. Tobirama was trembling and there were fireworks going off behind his eyelids by the time Madara came perhaps a dozen strokes later and added his own choked off moans to the symphony they were creating.

Coming down from his high slowly, it barely registered on Tobirama that they were still kissing until his mind began to clear at last. When he finally tuned in to reality they were making out languidly like two teenagers in the afterglow and that realization sent a bolt of panic through him. This wasn’t an _afterglow_ and it should never have happened in the first place.

Madara grunted in surprise when Tobirama suddenly pushed him away with no warning, hands fumbling to pull his trousers up and fasten them back in to place, wiping the residue from their moment of weakness on his thighs. The panels of his shirt were left open to the chill air as the two of them stared at each other in shocked silence. Obviously neither of them had planned for this to happen, just like neither of them had planned for the last time to happen either, and it left both of them gaping in surprise and searching for a reaction to what had just transpired. Tobirama shivered under the ghost sensation of large hands on his skin, warm lips on his own. His brows furrowed and he looked away when Madara’s eyes on his body became too much.

“This won’t happen again.” He meant for it to come out with anger, with conviction, but all it sounded like was a confused whisper. Before the other man had a chance to read too much in to that he dodged around the still form in front of him and hurried away in to the empty evening. His hands pulled his shirt around him and crossed over his chest like a woman protecting her modesty; indeed he felt exposed in a way he couldn’t properly describe, as though the insides of his chest were on open display for the world to see. He wondered what Hashirama would say if he were to barricade himself inside his home and never come out again.

Actually, he wondered what Hashirama would say if he knew his little brother had just had an intimate encounter with his best friend right up against the side of his house.

Why had he let it happen? He was more than strong enough to defend himself, even against someone of Madara’s capability, so he could have stopped things at any time. Yet in the moment he hadn’t even considered doing so once. In fact, he’d almost been milking the encounter for everything he could under the excuse that he should enjoy it while it lasted. Preposterous! He shouldn’t have enjoyed it at all! It was _Madara_!

Feeling uneasy with himself and his own actions, confused by the conflicting desires in his heart and his mind, Tobirama stormed straight passed his own home and tramped in to the woods beyond. What he needed was to get out a little energy. Training had always left his mind blissfully empty and that was just what he needed right now: to let all the tangled thoughts in his mind slip away. Perhaps when they all slithered back in he would find that they had ordered themselves properly.

He didn’t have high hopes for that but it never hurt to be optimistic about something.

Rather typically, his self-imposed isolation only lasted for two full days before he found his privacy intruded upon by someone he did not expect but really should have. Staying at home afforded him no peace when Izuna came storming in to his house near midday with a dark cloud hanging over his head and crumpled scroll in his hand, which he shoved under Tobirama’s nose with a grumpily murmured hello.

Tobirama greeted his friend with a raised eyebrow. “What’s got bees up in your bonnet?”

“I don’t wear a bonnet!” Izuna snapped. “I’m not a _girl_!”

“Could have fooled me with the way you pranced in here like the drama queen you are.”

“Fuck you,” his friend grumbled, a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Tobirama shook his head.

“No, I believe I’ll pass on that offer thanks.”

“Ugh gross. You’re gross.”

Smiling for the first time in several days, Tobirama lowered his eyes to the scroll in hand. It was something from the cypher department, he could tell that right away by the markings on the parchment. The message was only two-thirds translated in a meticulously neat hand that he recognized as one of the Yamanaka that he had trained for this post specifically.

“Did you have a question about this?” he asked. Izuna huffed.

“You’re the one that made the damn cipher so we figured you’d know what the hell this passage is supposed to be. I think the scout mixed up a couple of his code words and we can’t understand what he was trying to get at.”

Humming with interest, Tobirama spread the scroll out further across the kitchen table where he was already seated, reading through the message in its entirety for a bit of context. It wasn’t a terribly important message by any means, just a typical scouting report, but all scouts were currently instructed to write their reports only in code so that everyone could familiarize themselves with it enough to use it as a second language easily. It took a bit of imagination and a few leaps of intuition but Tobirama was reasonably certain he knew what this was actually supposed to say. After scribbling down what he believed the translation to be he looked up at Izuna and assessed his stance, the tense way he was holding himself.

“What’s your problem?” he demanded bluntly. Kami but he was glad to have found himself a best friend who didn’t need him to beat around the bush about these things. At his question Izuna threw both hands in the air and slumped in to a chair across the table from him.

“Madara, that’s my problem.” He didn’t seem to notice Tobirama stiffening in his seat. “He’s been all quiet and broody the last few days and I know from experience that he won’t get out of his funk until he just caves and tells me what the hell is bothering him. Or unless he solves whatever his problem is on his own but sage knows he’s no good at that.”

“Hmph,” Tobirama grunted. “Perhaps he’s contemplating how best to do the world a favor and off himself.”

Izuna sighed with all the love that only a sibling could muster. “If only.”

The two of them traded vicious grins.

“More power to him, I say,” Tobirama announced with false cheer, rolling up the scroll with had been brought to him. “Did you want anything else?”

“Yeah I want you to go die in a hole,” Izuna riposted and this time when he smiled it was wide and genuine. Tobirama snorted.

“Just for you,” he conceded.

“Of course for me. The entire _world_ bows for me.” Retrieving his scroll, Izuna lifted his chin in mock arrogance which Tobirama knew better than to take at face value.

All shinobi were generally fairly confident, it came with the territory of knowing you had the power to end another human being’s life, and as a member of the Uchiha clan Izuna typically presented himself as having much more than his own fair share that confidence. Were one to get to know him a little, however, one would discover the softly hesitant man hiding just behind the bravado, a man who loved deeply and wished fervently to show it but had never had a good example of how.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but that would be all of us bowing our heads in prayer that you might grow a functioning brain someday.” Just because he knew the other man didn’t mean it, that didn’t mean Tobirama was willing to set aside the snarky dynamic of their friendship. Izuna laughed.

“I’ll just steal some of yours. Your head’s too big anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Tobirama stood from his seat and wandered over to the stove where he was heating up some soup. He dearly wanted to let himself sink in to a good back and forth with his friend but instead he found his attention snagged on something else that wouldn’t let go. With a silent, unnoticeable sigh he gave in and tried to sound casual as he questioned the other.

“So, you have no idea what’s got Madara’s panties in a twist?”

“None.” Izuna snorted. “Whatever it is, it’s really bothering him. He was so quiet when I went over for dinner last night that I spilled some tea on his sleeve just to get a reaction and he barely even noticed!”

“Do you think he’s angry about something?”

“I don’t think so. Just bothered; like he’s got a problem that he can’t find a solution to. He used to get like this a lot when he was trying to figure out how to convince the clan elders to accept the peace treaties your brother kept sending us.”

While that was actually a fascinating insight as to why it had taken so long to achieve peace between their clans, Tobirama wasn’t sure what to make of that description of Madara’s behavior. A part of him very quietly hoped that it was him the other man was struggling over but he ruthlessly beat that part back in to silence. Madara had no reason to think of him and Tobirama knew that. The only reason they had come together the way they had was because of all that sexual frustration from the time when they were playing at being married.

Despite the vicious beating it had just taken, that small part of him piped up once more to wonder just what it was that had made Madara assume they were married in the first place. Tobirama hovered over his soup, stirring it without really seeing it, and tried not to let himself imagine what was truly bothering the person he had told himself he wasn’t going to think about anymore.

His mind rather carefully scuttled away from the truth that Madara was actually the only thing he’d been able to think about over the last two days.

“Does he seem…lonely?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he nearly choked on them, feeling them echo behind his teeth and wishing he could take them back. What care did he have if Madara was _lonely_?

“I…huh. Now that you mention it, maybe he does seem a little lonely.” Izuna assumed a thoughtful face as he stood from his chair. “Maybe I should go visit him more often.”

“You do that,” Tobirama mumbled noncommittally. “Now go away and let me get back to what I was doing. It’s my day off and I have no intention of letting you ruin it with your presence for longer than necessary.”

“Dick head,” His friend told him cheerfully on his way out. Tobirama inclined his head, not even bothering to deny it.

Once he was alone again he looked down at the soup he was stirring, realizing that he wasn’t quite as hungry as he had been before. Now his stomach was in knots that he didn’t dare to unravel for fear of what sorts of things he would find twisted up inside. Introspection was more Hashirama’s thing, not his.

As he had told Izuna, today was his day off and he had indeed intended to spend it here alone. What he hadn’t mentioned was that he had worked his schedule around to take these last few days off so that he could bury his head in work undisturbed and pretend the world outside did not exist. He didn’t want Hashirama in his face being chipper and prodding him to find out what was bothering him. He didn’t want Touka crossing her arms with her judgmental expression and asking in a loud, blunt voice what had happened to get such a dark cloud stuck over his head. He most certainly did not want to see how Madara was dealing with what had happened between them.

Yet it seemed he was doomed to be updated on Madara’s wellbeing even when he successfully managed to avoid the man. Even staying hidden away at home could not save him from having his own actions thrust back in to his face again and again.

Frustrated, exasperated, Tobirama turned off the stove and opened his cupboards, searching for a container that could hold this much soup. His appetite had entirely left him but he was hardly about to waste so much food; such a thought was abhorrent to someone who had grown up in war, living through frequent periods when foods was scarce. After slipping the soup in to the fridge he trudged down the hall towards the bathroom. Perhaps a nice hot bath would clear his head. He’d always done his best thinking when he could feel water around him, whether in a lake or in a tub.

Given how hard he had worked to avoid the man it was just Tobirama’s luck that he ran in to Madara within ten minutes of finally showing his face at the tower once more. Working from home was all well and good but eventually he needed to come in to deliver all of the things he had completed to their proper recipients. Not wanting to even deal with the sensation of the one he was trying hard not to think about, Tobirama pulled his senses in tight to himself as he made his way up to the top floor of the administration building, dropping small bundles of forms off in different offices as he passed by until all he had left was a few things that needed the signature of the Hokage before they could be filed.

The moment he opened the door he regretted even waking up that morning. Without his senses he hadn’t had fair warning that Madara was already present in Hashirama’s office, comfortably ensconced in the squishy chair meant for visiting delegates. Knowing he only had himself to blame for this little surprise didn’t make it any more pleasant.

He would have expected the man to glare at him as heatedly as he normally would upon seeing him walk in to the room and yet all he received was a narrow eyed look of contemplation before he was dismissed entirely, as though he were unimportant. Seeing that someone else wished for the Hokage’s attention, Madara stood from his seat and swept towards to door with his chin held up in that infuriatingly regal manner of his.

“If you’re that worried about it then deny them access to the village,” he advised airily. “We have no time for people who can’t even make up their minds about what they want.”

As he passed through the doorway, prompting Tobirama to scramble out of the way at the last minute so they wouldn’t collide, Madara made sure to look over at him with one eyebrow arched suggestively. Tobirama scowled after him as he retreated down the hallway. Was that supposed to be aimed at him? He was perfectly aware of what he did and did not want. For example, he wanted that beast of a human being out of his life for good, once and for all.  He really, really did. Honest.

Now filled with annoyance instead of the calm peacefulness he had miraculously achieved that morning, he dropped the small packet of papers he was carrying on to his brother’s desk with an aggrieved sigh. Hashirama leaned forward and rested his chin atop clasped hands.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Tobirama snapped. “Whatever you’re asking about, no. I _never_ want to talk about it.”

“That might be part of the problem, you know. If you never talk about things and you keep them all inside they can fester. Then you’re just making yourself miserable for no reason.”

Frowning, Tobirama looked at his brother sideways. “Stop pretending to be wise. It’s weird.”

“I will leave you alone if you can answer just one question for me.” Hashirama smiled in an innocent way that didn’t fool him at all and yet Tobirama still couldn’t help the small tingle of curiosity that had him nodding cautiously. “What is it exactly that makes you hate Madara so much?”

“He’s...” With his mouth opening and closing the way it was he probably resembled some sort of fish. “He’s a jerk,” he finally came up with. Even to his own ears it sounded incredibly weak. His brother chuckled.

“So are you, sometimes.”

“Well he’s unreasonable and snappish.”

“You experienced firsthand his habit of walking away from a fight and coming back to apologize later. I know that because whenever he walked away from you he would oftentimes come to me and ask for advice on how he should apologize to ‘his husband’.”

Tobirama fumbled mentally, searching for a straw to grasp. “He cares for no one but himself.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me – sounding very confused, I might add – that you were surprised by how solicitous he was of you? That the way he spoke of his brother reminded you very much of the way I speak of you? With _love_? And, do feel free to correct me, but weren’t you present during the very first days of peace so long ago when he fought tooth and nail to make sure his clan would be happy and safe? Your memory is better than mine, Brother; I know you remember how passionately he spoke for his people.”

“Okay! Stop! Stop!” Feeling almost faint, Tobirama let himself fall backwards in to the very chair that Madara had just been sitting in, raising both hands to rub at his temples.

“So? What is it exactly that you hate about Madara?”

“I…” Tobirama swallowed thickly and found he couldn’t raise his eyes from the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know what _I_ think? I think you hate that you don’t hate him because you think that he still hates you even after all the time you two spent together.”

“That time was a lie from start to finish!”

“And I think that bothers you.”

Jerking upright and staring at his sibling in shock, Tobirama could do nothing but gape once more. Hashirama gave him no quarter as the older man locked him in to place with an unrelenting stare.

“Here’s what I think happened: you spent quite a lot of time getting to know Madara almost against your will and during that time you discovered he wasn’t nearly as bad of a person as you thought him to be. This would be where I slip in an ‘I told you so’. Then Madara regained his memories and suddenly your relationship was thrown back to what it had been before, angry and loathsome.” Hashirama tilted his head and his expression softened as he delivered the final blow. “You miss him.”

“I can’t miss him.” He would have stood and left the room, escaped this entire ludicrous conversation, but he couldn’t feel his legs.

“Why not?” Hashirama demanded, eyes still holding him captive. Tobirama dug his nails in to his palms to stop himself from trembling.

“Because he doesn’t miss me,” he spat.

A piteous little noise escaped him as he finally managed to tear himself from his brother’s gaze, returning his own to the floor. Thus was the truth which he had been so desperately avoiding, the reason he had tried so hard not to even think of the other man and the truth which he couldn’t even admit to himself. He _did_ miss Madara.

But the person he missed was a lie. It wasn’t as though he didn’t exist; surely Madara was still that same compassionate person when he was alone with the people he truly cared about. The problem was that he no longer cared for Tobirama and thus that compassionate version of Madara did not exist as far as he was concerned. Madara did not miss him, only the warmth of another body in his bed, and Tobirama’s chest contracted as he silently acknowledge that the only thing Madara wanted from him now was a quick fuck.

“Even after all the time you two spent around each other, still neither one of you learned a thing. That’s amazing. And the two of you call _me_ oblivious.”

“Please, Anija. I’m not sure how many more revelations I can deal with. It’s too early in the morning for this.”

“Don’t you think it’s possible that he’s angry for the exact same reason you are?” Hashirama asked. When Tobirama looked up at him again he was wearing an expression of exaggerated patience, as though he were explaining something to a child. He found that a bit offensive.

“No,” Tobirama growled, pushing himself on to his feet and stumbling for the door. “No I don’t.”

“Tobes, wait!”

“I said no! And stop calling me that!”

Blocking out the sound of his sibling’s voice as he hurried away, Tobirama tried not to concentrate on the fact that what he was doing was essentially fleeing. It felt as though he’d done nothing lately but run away; from Madara, from Hashirama, from his own feelings. He had fled his own office more than once upon feeling one of their chakra signatures approaching, knowing he didn’t have the strength or patience to deal with whatever it was they wanted.

Seeing as how his office is where he had meant to spend some time after visiting his brother, it appeared as though he would be running away just one more time today. The very thought of spending time here was unbearable now, especially when he could feel Madara moving about a mere two floors beneath him. He had to get away.

Never before had he felt so much like a coward as he did right then, hopping out of a window and hurling himself across the rooftops towards home. Were he anyone else he would be disgusted with his own behavior and yet he was just barely honest enough with himself to admit that he would not know how to handle coming face to face with the source of all his turmoil. He thought it might be a close call between throwing himself at the older man and throwing a punch. Obviously it would be much safer for him to spend a few hours in his private lab.

The lab, however, turned out to be a spectacularly bad idea. Most of his experiments involved dangerous materials and required a steady hand. Since both of his hands were shaking with the rampaging emotions inside him he knew that would be far from a good idea. He tried reading, tried several different books in fact, but none of them held his attention. When noon rolled around he tried to work out some of the manic energy inside of him by walking to the closest café and purchasing a small lunch, which he ate very little of.

When none of that worked he retired to the training grounds farthest from the village center, where he could sense no one around for at least a full mile. He would have sought out Touka or Izuna to come with him but he feared his mouth would betray him and blabber about what had upset him. Tobirama prayed his brother would keep his silence as he went through a vigorous set of katas, trying to clear his head as training always had.

For once, however, not even a good work out did the trick. There had always been something about the perfect flow of muscles rippling like water from one stance to the next which brought him calm. Now his movements were jerky and uncoordinated, preventing him from being able to lose himself in the rhythm of the kata no matter how many times he went through it.

By the time he gave up it was long past the dinner hour and he was reaching exhaustion. Sweat dripped from his chin and rolled down his bare arms, exposed when he discarded his shirt a few hours back. His sleeveless undershirt was soaked through and he was incredibly thankful that he didn’t typically wear his happuri within the village as it would likely have been sliding down his face from all the sweat on his brow. Even his hair was wet, plastered to his skull and sticking to his forehead. Despite all the energy he had expended and the despite the way his muscles were screaming for mercy, Tobirama still felt that buzz just under his skin.

Snarling in frustration, he grabbed his shirt off the ground where he had thrown it and stormed off away, telling himself that he had best go home before he did something stupid. It was starting to look like he would get no rest that night but since he knew that nothing else was going to work he might as well drive himself mad by pacing circles around his living room. It would accomplish about as much as everything else had so far but it would keep his breakdown quiet at the very least.

Trying to disappear inside his own head as he was, Tobirama noticed nothing amiss until he reached for the door handle of his home only to discover that this wasn’t his home at all – at least not anymore it wasn’t. This was Madara’s home.

He let go of the handle as quickly as one might drop something red-hot, staring at the door as though waiting for it to open and deliver him to an answer to all of his problems. And why shouldn’t he demand answers? How many hours had he spent just today avoiding this man, avoiding the whole situation, and received nothing but more confusion and turmoil for his efforts?

On the other hand he was already fairly sure he knew what answers he would get. Madara had hated him before and hated him still. A handful of months without his memories hadn’t changed anything; why would it? He had no desire to hear the words from Madara’s mouth which would shatter the last fragile hold he had on his own sanity. No, the best thing for him to do would be to slip away before anyone knew he had even been here and find a way to bury everything inside him. Not the healthiest thing, maybe, but the safest route to take nonetheless.

It was with horror that Tobirama watched his own hand lift up and bang on the door three times almost hard enough to shatter the wood. What was he doing? He hadn’t meant to do that! Madara was home, he knew that. He could feel the man coming closer and closer, his chakra burning like a tongue of welcoming flame, nearly searing him with the proximity of his heat.

And then the door opened.

Too stunned to move, Tobirama stared wordlessly at the man before him, his mind going utterly blank upon first sight. Madara stared back. Obviously he was the last person the older man had expected to see upon his doorstep, especially considering the late hour. Seeing the way Madara’s eyes slowly looked him up and down as though he couldn’t help from doing so, Tobirama felt something within him snap.

When he lunged forward and crashed their lips together Madara caught him with a freely offered groan. Tobirama drove them backwards against the wall and Madara let him, winding fingers in to his wet hair and paying no attention to the door as it slowly shut itself behind them. The kiss was messy and uncoordinated and everything Tobirama needed right then. It dragged a sigh out of him and made him press closer. He wanted more. He _needed_ more. Thankfully, inexplicably, Madara seemed to agree.

Fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, peeling it off him without hesitation. Tobirama forced himself to let them part so that the material could be dragged over his head but the moment he was free of it he dove forward again. His teeth bit down on a vulnerable lower lip even as his fingers tugged at the obi holding Madara’s robes closed. Kami but he was thankful the man always wore clothing that was so easily accessible. Once the obi fell free it was but the work of a moment to yank him away from the wall so Tobirama could shove the robe off of his shoulders and let it slide to the ground, leaving him in nothing but his underwear.

He didn’t pay a lot of attention to the journey from the front of the house all the way down to the bedroom, his feet taking him there by sheer muscle memory as he let himself get lost in the lips trying their best to drag the very air out of his lungs. Warm hands clutched at his arms until he lost track of where each of their limbs were when they fell down in to a familiar bed. He had spent many nights in this bed with the man he was now pressing back in to the sheets, slowly learning to relax with someone else there only to suddenly find himself alone and cold once more. Now he felt like his entire body was on fire as he settled himself in between Madara’s thighs and finally tore his mouth away from the other man’s only to nip his way down the soft skin of a proudly arched neck.

Despite the distraction of the lips at his throat and the fingers tracing his chest, Madara did not lay idle. His own hands sought out every dip and curve along Tobirama’s back, digging his nails in and scratching at the skin just enough to leave nerve endings tingling for more. Underneath the frantic energy crackling between them there appeared to be some silent agreement, neither spoken of nor even acknowledged: this wasn’t about pain. Where the first time they had collided had been violent and aggressive, now their touches were exploratory and strangely gentle, both of them being careful not to cross the line in to causing the other pain. Each soft press of skin, each curious brushing of their bodies, it was nearly enough to drive Tobirama out of his mind. He had no memory of coming here and no idea what they were even doing and for once he didn’t care.

If he was going to be honest with himself a part of him did know why he was here and what he hoped for. But this wasn’t the time for that and so he buried that thought and arched up in to the palm that slid around to cup a fistful of his ass.

Madara groaned under him and bucked upward, grinding their erections together, and Tobirama made a strangled noise before sliding further down. It put him out of reach for their bodies to grind together but it brought his face level with a well-sculpted chest at just the right angle for him to take one pink nipple in to his mouth. The fingers that could no longer reach his ass dug in to his back as Madara’s spine bent. He bit down gently and rolled the nipple between his teeth even as he smirked in triumph. Getting a reaction out of this man had always been easy but he had to admit that these reactions were much more satisfying than angry shouting.

Unable to stop himself from touching as much as possible, Tobirama used the hand not holding himself up to wander down and play with the hem of Madara’s single remaining item of clothing. He hadn’t had much time to admire the way the briefs shaped what he could attest to being quite a sizable bulge. When he turned his head to lap his tongue against the opposite nipple, he slipped one finger just barely under the hem of those briefs and drew circles on the skin he found there.

“Fucking tease,” Madara gasped, though he didn’t sound terribly upset by it. Tobirama chuckled, nipping him sharply twice more before answering.

“You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Hnngg…” Instead of answering Madara arched in to him and wriggled his own hands between them, trying to undo Tobirama’s trousers in the limited space he was able to gain. Tobirama’s breath stuttered but he did nothing to stop the other.

As soon as his pants were undone he felt a warm hand sliding past the waistband of his underwear, wasting no time in taking him in a loose grip and stroking lightly. His belly fluttered and his eyes fell closed as he fought against the urge to push in to the feeling. It had barely been a week since the last time he’d spilled himself over those same fingers and yet his body was as eager as though he’d gone months without.

“Stop teasing,” his partner whispered against the tip of his ear, “and you can put this somewhere that will feel a lot better.”

Instead of answering – although he only didn’t because his tongue had just tied itself in to a very intricate knot – Tobirama let the rest of his hand slip down past the waistband of Madara’s underwear and quickly slide them off, the man under him lifting his hips to help him along. Lowering his head once more, he pressed a line of hot kisses across his partner’s sternum while he snuck a few surreptitious glances downward. It was the first opportunity he’d had to actually look at the cock he’d already had inside him once. The size of it didn’t surprise him in the least since he was already fairly intimately acquainted with that but he didn’t anticipate the way his mouth immediately began to water at the sight of it.

Right away images filled his head of himself on his knees, sliding that cock in to his mouth like a delicious treat, hands keeping Madara’s hips still as the older man begged him for more. For whatever reason, the first place his mind chose to place his fantasy in was his own desk at the administration tower. The thought of sucking this man off in what he considered his own territory sent a flash of possessiveness through his bloodstream and suddenly he was snarling as he pushed himself back up to claim Madara’s mouth.

Maybe Madara didn’t want him the same way but Tobirama would be damned if he wasn’t going to show the man exactly what he was missing. He wanted to mark, to claim, to leave the impression of himself so deeply that no matter where Madara found himself he would always think back to Tobirama. If this was how he was to be remembered then he intended to make it a damn good memory.

Quiet, overwhelmed noises of surprise escaped his partner as they savaged each other’s mouths and Tobirama was far from surprised when the older man reached underneath his pillow to pull out a bottle of lube and hand it over. He’d been the one to suggest it after all so it wasn’t unexpected that he would want to get on with it. Tobirama still felt pretty smug about the way Madara’s eyes rolled back in his head as he latched on to his neck and sucked hard, very much intending to leave as dark a hickey as possible.

Tobirama buried his face in the joint of Madara’s shoulder to leave another mark as he fiddled with the lube one-handed. Once he had a good amount on his finger he dropped the bottle and reached down to trace circles around his partner’s entrance. Both of them shuddered at first contact. He would freely admit to having used this man as fantasy material even before this whole mess started – he was an attractive man and there was no question about that – but never in a million years could he had guessed that he would ever be here, slipping the tip of one finger inside just enough to tease. Madara arched impatiently and Tobirama nipping him in reproval.

Only once he had settled down with a low whine did Tobirama slide the rest of his finger inside, curling it to stroke along the slick inner walls as he pulled it back out and feeling the way Madara’s body quaked at the sensation. The man was so tight he wondered if it wouldn’t hurt for him to slide inside but he was hardly about to stop and bring that up. That’s what the stretching was for after all and he trusted that Madara would stop him if he needed to.

As if to prove his point, the second finger sank in easily when he added it, no resistance whatsoever. Madara panted against his ear, switching between nibbling on the lobe and whispering filthy things to him, all the different positions they could try. Tobirama had never felt so impatient in his life. Usually he enjoyed this stage. He liked taking his time and drawing out the pleasure, sometimes teasing his partner until they were on the brink of madness and other times bringing them over the edge again and again, whatever he felt like at the time. At the moment though he felt as though he simply couldn’t wait. Now was not the time to test Madara’s patience by teasing him and Tobirama wasn’t sure he wouldn’t come inside his underwear if he had to watch Madara reach his peak without him.

Working in a third finger and scissoring them to further stretch the entrance, Tobirama finally left off leaving dark imprints on the pale skin before him. The high collars of the Uchiha clan would likely hide most of them but all one would have to do would be pull it slightly to the side and anyone could see the evidence of his claim. Just picturing it thrilled him. Would Madara be embarrassed? Would he blush? Would he be able to get the memory of this night out of his head?

“Kami, if I beg or something will you just fuck me?” Madara’s voice was broken and shaking. “Because I swear I will actually beg if that’s what it takes.”

“As much as that would be….absolutely incredible…it’s also not necessary.” With one last messy kiss against a spot where he could see the indentations of his own teeth, Tobirama slid his fingers out and reached for the lube again.

“Finally,” his partner breathed. Tobirama chuckled.

“Impatient much?”

When he looked down he wasn’t prepared to see the scorched heat in Madara’s eyes, the almost serious expression on his face and the way it paired with his heaving chest to make a stunning visual.

“I need you.”

He also wasn’t prepared for those three small words, whispered with a sincerity he wasn’t willing to even consider deciphering at the moment. They froze him for a few seconds, leaving them both staring in to each other’s eyes, breathing each other’s air. Madara’s hand gently squeezing his bicep broke the spell and Tobirama was able, with some difficulty, to draw a lungful of air.

Neither of them made a comment on his lack of answer or the way he turned his focus on to finally divesting himself of the last of his clothing. Once naked he straightened up on his knees and reached for the bottle of lube, squeezing another small portion on to his already sticky palm. His eyes closed briefly and he fought back a surge of pleasure as he reach down to stroke himself to spread the lubricant, then when he looked down at Madara he tossed the bottle to the floor and smirked.

“Turn over,” he rumbled.

Amazingly, the older man didn’t even fight him on it. Of course, the desperation and relief on his face as he almost pulled a muscle in his hurry to turn on his belly might have had something to do with that. Tobirama brushed his one clean palm lightly up the back of Madara’s thighs, dipping his thumb inward briefly before without warning grabbing the hips in front of him and pulling them closer. He was amazed all over again when all Madara did was mewl and dig his face in to the pillow. The position left him bowed with his ass in the air, stretched hole on display for Tobirama to stare at and lick his lips as yet more images appeared in his mind, this time of Madara writhing with Tobirama’s tongue inside him.

Shaking his head, Tobirama took himself in hand and brushed the tip of his cock against the wet heat waiting for him. There were endless things he would do to the man beneath him, so many ways he could give the other immeasurable pleasure, and he wished he had time for them all. But wistful longing was hardly about to ruin what he had right then.

Both men cried out as he sank inside with no warning and little gentleness. His control was frayed, his patience all but run out, and if he’d had Madara stretch himself he would have been a little more cautious. He knew how well he’d prepared his partner, however, and he knew he’d made room for himself. The way Madara pressed back against him and loudly demanded he do it again told him he’d guessed correctly how much the man could take.

Giving Madara what he wanted was far from a chore. He was just as tight as Tobirama expected him to be, slick with lube and scorching hot. The pressure around him as he pulled away and jerked his hips forward again was so good his head dropped back and his jaw clenched to hold in a string of curses.

His partner, apparently, felt no such restraints.

“Fuuuuuck,” Madara groaned as he was entered yet again, hips rolling as he tried to ride back in to the motions. “Shit that’s good. _Shit!_ There!”

Tobirama bit his lip and tried to aim for the same spot with every thrust, picking up speed and using the grip he had on Madara’s hips to fight his partner’s movements and keep him still. It earned him more swearing. He’d never realized he had a kink for making his partner swear until just now.

When Madara clenched around him, Tobirama’s body jolted and he curled forward. Half bowed, his face was only a few inches from a sweaty, heaving back, just close enough that he was able to bend his neck and press hot kisses against his partner’s skin. Regardless of the fact that he knew he should be keeping his distance, Tobirama found himself not caring. He should straighten again and not put any more of himself in to this than he already had and yet instead he was leaning farther forward, draping himself across Madara’s form and wrapping one arm under the older man’s torso to lift him up on to his elbows and press their bodies together almost like a hug.

Drawing his tongue across the marks he had left on Madara’s neck also drew shivers from them both. Tobirama’s hips never faltered but his eyes fell closed as he inhaled the scent of sweat and sex that filled the room. He wasn’t the only one with soaked skin anymore and he loved seeing the evidence of how worked up the other was, how much this was affecting them both.

He felt his orgasm approaching long before he was ready for it. Was it too much to ask that this moment stretch on forever? A practical man he might be but even he had the right to impossible dreams. Despite that, he knew that the end was inevitable and he intended not to go over the edge alone. The arm he still had wrapped around Madara’s thick chest unwound itself to reach down below their straining bodies and take him in hand, quick strokes with the small bit of lube that still lingered on his palm.

As though he were in a dream, Tobirama watched as for the second time that night one of his hands moved without his express permission. He noticed that the hand that he was using to brace himself against the mattress so he didn’t fall forward on top of his partner was resting less than half an inch away from another pale hand – and he didn’t have time to stop himself before he had already moved. His fingers slid over top of Madara’s, sinking down in to the spaces between and interlocking them in a tight grip. If they were an actual couple it would have been an intimate move, a gesture of his affection and a silent way of saying he never wanted to let go.

But they weren’t a couple. He knew that and still he didn’t remove his hand, not when it felt so right to keep it there. Madara either didn’t think anything of it or was too distracted by the overload of stimulus to pay attention to such a small detail as holding hands.

“ _Hah_ – _hah_ – don’t – don’t stop!” Every word was rasping against his throat, raw from his constant noises as both of their hips worked frantically against each other.

“Can’t stop,” Tobirama gasped in reply, barely even aware he was speaking the words. Below them, his hand sped up as he felt Madara’s body begin to jerk uncontrollably.

His partner whimpered and turned his head, blindly seeking him out. Tobirama lifted his own head and craned his neck to accept the kiss Madara so obviously wanted. It was a wet, messy kiss with absolutely no coordination to speak of, and it was exactly what he needed. Just as he felt the first quaking in his thighs begin, he whispered heatedly against his lover’s lips.

“Come for me, Madara.”

And Madara did.

In a direct contrast to how loud he had been the whole time, the older man made no noise as he finally came, almost as though all the words had been stolen out of his mouth by the pleasure washing through him. Only three strokes later and Tobirama followed him in to nirvana, losing track of reality entirely, gritting his teeth and groaning low through a clenched jaw while he rode through the ecstasy running wild in his veins.

The aftermath hit him nearly as hard as the orgasm had. Several hours of vigorous training had left him already drained of energy and he had hardly expected to have (admittedly incredible) sex right after. With dual sighs of utter content, the two of them collapsed sideways in to the sheets. Underneath the sweat and the smell of their coupling Tobirama could just barely catch the familiar scent that had surrounded him every night he had spent during the time they were ‘married’. It was so familiar, in fact, that his body relaxed without a thought and he was left as little more than a human puddle of exhausted muscle.

For a few minutes the two of them simply lay there in the messed sheets, both trying to catch their breath. Distantly Tobirama registered that his arms were still draped around the other man in a pseudo embrace but he didn’t have nearly enough energy to be upset about it as long as Madara seemed calm as well.

Eventually his partner slid away from him, shivering as his cock slipped out at last and carefully stepping over to the bathroom to clean himself up. While this would have made the perfect opportunity for Tobirama to get up and get himself dressed, the perfect time to get the hell out of there, instead he simply laid there. His body was drained, his mind was floating, and his eyes were slowly drooping shut. He never even realized they had slid closed until he felt the mattress dip and a gentle hand was moving a strand of hair out of his face.

“Hm?” A tired hum escaped him and he fought to peel his eyes back open. He hadn’t even heard Madara come back in the room. How long had his eyes been closed?

“Shh,” Madara soothed him. Between the cracks in his eyelids he could just make out the older man’s face looking down at him. “Go to sleep.”

More tired than he could believe, Tobirama followed that advice almost before the words were finished. Sleep came over him like a warm blanket and he fell down in to the darkness unaware of the smile on his face, unaware of the covers coming up over him, and blissfully unaware of what awaited him the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Warm sunlight on his face was what woke him – that, and he was sleeping on the wrong side. Years of habitually sleeping on his left side left him a little disoriented to awaken on his right even before the rest of his senses flared to life and other strange things filtered in to his consciousness.

A strong, suspiciously familiar arm was wrapped about his waist. He could feel Madara’s chakra signature in the body pressed against him from behind, a face buried in his hair and legs entwined with his own. The deep breath meant to keep him calm was instantly regretted as his nostrils filled with the stench of himself and the unwashed sheets he was wrapped in. Evidently he had fallen asleep after the unplanned events of last night and he wondered what the hell Madara was playing at to simply crawl back in to bed with him instead of waking him up and sending him home.

Before he could even begin to contemplate an escape plan – not that his genius brain was at all in proper working order at the moment to make one – he was stopped by a voice honeyed with sleep.

“Kami, you reek.” Not that he particularly disagreed, Tobirama was still startled into complete stillness when that was how Madara chose to greet him. He just barely managed not to flinch when the hand around his waist lifted to pat him genially on the chest. “Go shower, you smell like trash.”

With that, Madara wriggled away and got out of the bed. Tobirama dared to roll over just far enough to watch the older man stretching comfortably while he ambled away. As he passed through the doorway and stepped in to the hall, he waved languidly over one shoulder.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

It took a minute for Tobirama’s brain to process that. His first question, once he had managed to get himself up to speed, was to ask why Madara wasn’t kicking him out. Or for that matter why he didn’t seem in the least upset. Had he been awake for longer than Tobirama had? If that was the case then it didn’t make sense that he would have remained in the bed with them all cuddled up together as though they had gone back in time.

Chills ran down his spine as he contemplated that last thought with a bit more depth. Had Madara had a relapse? Was it possible that his memory had been lost again and he once more thought of them as a married couple? Tobirama was educated in a great many things but the inner workings of the human mind was not a subject he had ever applied himself to trying to understand. Generally most people left that circus to the Yamanaka. For all he knew, the idea was possible.

Since the only way to find out was to get out of bed and go along with things for now, Tobirama hauled his body up out of the sheets and tried not to breathe too deeply of himself as he made his way towards the bathroom. He really did stink but that was what he got for training until he was soaked in sweat and proceeding to other activities which only made him sweat more before letting himself fall asleep without cleaning off first. A shower was absolutely what he needed right now. Kami only knew how many hours he’d been laying there stewing in his own filth.

Having his shower was a bit of a surreal experience. As soon as he stepped in to the bathroom he was forcibly reminded that he hadn’t been able to retrieve quite all of his possessions in his hurry to leave after Madara regained his memories all those weeks ago. His toothbrush was still sitting in the holder beside Madara’s, his favorite blue towel laundered and folded with the rest of them in the cupboard. Small marks of his presence still lingered in this house like an echo and he was amazed that they hadn’t all been thrown out the very moment he was gone. If he’d been in Madara’s position he would have gone through the place with a fine tooth comb and binned each and every item that wasn’t his own.

On the other hand it was a small comfort to be able to wash with his own soap, dry off using his own towel, and dress himself in the few items of clothing he’d missed when he had packed. He wasn’t sure how it would have felt to have to dress himself in Madara’s clothing, especially considering what they had done the night before.

Leaving the bathroom and wandering down the hall, Tobirama walked in to the kitchen with a great deal of caution. He found Madara hovering over the toaster with a knife and a dish of butter, sleepily waiting for his food to pop up. On the table there was already a plate of toast where Tobirama had always sat for breakfast, his own slices coated with a very thin layer of marmalade just the way he liked it and accompanied by an inviting cup of coffee. The sight did nothing to ease his suspicions and it appeared his thoughts were obvious on his face as he slid in to his seat; Madara sighed when he spotted his expression.

“You’re wondering if my memory’s gone haywire again,” he guessed wryly. “Hn. You’re fine, I’m not any crazier than usual.”  

Tobirama felt the large knot in his stomach unwind and he sagged a little with relief. Not all the tension was relieved however. He only had more questions now and even less idea how to ask them.

Dragging the waiting cup of coffee towards him seemed a safer path for the moment and so he did that, giving the steaming liquid a cursory blow before gulping as much as he could without scalding off his own tongue. Eyeing the toast, he wondered if his stomach would be capable of keeping anything down right then considering the way it was turning over and over and twisting itself in to endless nervous shapes.

He knew very well that the adult, mature thing to do would be to bring up the subject that plagued his mind, the calamity which had brought him here the night before. Unfortunately it seemed that sometime when he wasn’t paying attention he’d sunk even farther in to the persona of a coward since instead of doing that he simply bent his head over the toast which had been prepared for him and decided that he would rather risk vomiting than exposing himself in such a manner. Feelings were Hashirama’s forte, not his. Never had been and never would be.

Silence hung between them once Madara’s toast popped and the other man ate his breakfast standing by the counter. Awkwardness wasn’t something Tobirama had a lot of experience with but at the moment he was filled with it. Was he supposed to start a casual conversation or something? How was one supposed to act when one stayed the night after a one night stand that meant more to himself than the other party? He was extremely confused as to why Madara wasn’t freaking out yet but he had no idea how to ask about it without letting on why he cared.

As it turned out, even without asking he received an answer to that question only moments after he had finished his breakfast. Coffee cup raised and head bowed to take another sip, Tobirama froze when Madara spoke barely above a whisper.

“I miss my husband.”

Breathing slowly and shoving down the rising panic, Tobirama forced himself to look over at his companion. Madara was looking back at him with an unfathomable sadness in his face that made his hands shake. Before he could spill it, he carefully set the coffee down and stared at it wordlessly.

“We have to talk about it eventually,” the older man pointed out. Tobirama squirmed. On the one hand he did want to talk about it but on the other hand he hadn’t expected how that opening statement would make him feel.

“You never had a husband,” he pointed out softly.

“Yes I did. We were never married but for a few months I had a husband.” Madara crossed his arms but it didn’t hide the way his fists were clenched tightly. “I had a man who came home to me every night, who let me rest my head in his lap after a long day, who made fun of my terrible cooking but ate it anyway. And I miss him.”

“What you had was…” Tobirama bit down on his bottom lip, trying to find a way to explain what he was thinking. Eventually he settled for saying, “What you had wasn’t real.”

“And yet we keep coming back to each other,” Madara pointed out. “Seems to me it would be easier if you just came home.”

It felt like getting kicked in the chest and the feelings that ripped through him nearly doubled him over in his seat. Trying to keep his breathing steady, Tobirama stood from his chair so he could pace in a small circle, unable to keep still with everything he was feeling jangling inside him like discordant bells.

“It’s not that easy.” Not that he didn’t wish it was.

“Give me a reason why not.”

Peeking over, Tobirama reluctantly met Madara’s eyes. He was fairly sure even without seeing himself that they were matching each other’s expressions of longing confusion. “Because you don’t know who I am. Your mind decided we were married and you miss that but you don’t know _me_. You don’t love _me_ , the real me. Just the idea of companionship. I’m still the asshole you’ve hated your entire life.”

“I know that you take one cream in your coffee.” Tobirama twitched as his eyes flickered toward the cup on the table. Madara pressed on unrelentingly. “I know that you pull at your hair when you can’t figure out a problem. I know you like doing your scientific experiments because you hate unanswered questions – and you always have more questions. I know that you only ever sleep on your left side and you secretly enjoy it when your brother acts overly affectionate.”

“Madara…”

“No one can spend so much time with a person and not learn things about them. You might be the same person but to me you’re different because now I’ve seen parts of you that I hadn’t before. Don’t you stand there and try to tell me you don’t see me a little differently now too.”

“Kami, let a man breathe.”

Despite his own words, Tobirama found it nearly impossible to draw a proper breath. His lungs weren’t responding to him and his chest felt too tight with confusion. Was this a good thing? Were they having a good conversation? He knew where he wanted this to go but he also knew better than to jump in with both eyes shut.

Slumping against the counter just a little more, Madara uncrossed his arms and let his hands fiddle with each other in front of him. Instead of letting the silence fester again he spoke haltingly, trying to place a memory even as he talked about it.

“You told me once you can never sleep when I’m gone. I don’t know when that memory is from but I know it’s real.”

“Ah. That.” Tobirama paused in his pacing with a smile that flashed across his face so quickly it was barely there at all. He remembered Madara mentioning this before in the hospital but only now was he able to recall why he had said such a thing. The answer was slightly ironic. “When we first built the village I told you I couldn’t get any sleep whenever you left on a mission because Hashirama wouldn’t stop worrying about you. He would pester me day and night, asking if I thought you were okay, until you finally came home.”

“Oh. That long ago?” The older man shifted his weight and looked away. Obviously that hadn’t been the answer he was hoping for.

Tobirama stared at him, realizing how close to the other his pacing had brought him. He had only to reach out his arm and he could touch, draw fingers down bared forearms, and he had no idea what was holding him back from doing so. This is exactly what he had wanted so where the hell was all this hesitance coming from? He’d never hated his own tendency towards caution more.

When Madara looked back at him their eyes met and for a minute neither of them moved, simply stood there and stared at each other in wordlessly. Once it became obvious that both of them lacked the power to move away, Madara was the one to reach out at last and close his fingers around the edge of Tobirama’s sleeve, guiding him in closer. Tobirama let himself be pulled along, chewing on his lower lip again but not resisting in the slightest.

“If it bothers you that I don’t know you well enough then there’s an easy solution for that. Let me get to know you better. All I need is a chance,” Madara implored him. Tobirama swallowed harshly.

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then at least I’ll have tried, right?”

“No I meant for me. If it doesn’t work out, what do _I_ do?” The way Madara stared at him with such wide, startled eyes made it impossible to look away as he stumble onward. “I’m not used to putting myself on the line like this. As much as I want to it goes against all my instincts to simply hand you a possible weakness.”

“Maybe you should stop thinking of love as a weakness. You love your brother, don’t you?”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Tobirama admitted sheepishly. When it came to the person in front of him, he seemed to say that a lot.

Madara huffed out a small chuckle and pulled him closer until their chests were touching and their foreheads pressed together. It made Tobirama wonder if the other man could feel the way his heart was pounding inside his chest.

“One day I had a husband who loved me,” Madara murmured to him, “and the next day that got taken away with no warning. I was happy, peaceful, and when I woke up the next morning I realized that everything had been a lie. I was angry at you for taking that all away from me.”

“You hated me before. I assumed you had returned to the same. And I didn’t want to admit that I saw you differently now because it would have been too painful when I thought you could never feel the same way.” Hearing his partner’s side, Tobirama felt obligated to share his own. That didn’t make airing his emotions like this feel any more natural but the effort was there at least.

“I miss you.”

Tobirama closed his eyes, arms coming up to wind themselves around Madara’s waist. Those words were different than they had been before and he realized finally what it was that was holding him back: the fear that it really was just the companionship that Madara had missed and not him specifically. Unfortunately that was when his instincts kicked in to deflect at the first sign of real emotion.

“Quit being so sappy,” he grumbled even while his body betrayed him by leaning in closer. Luckily Madara saw right through him.

“What for? If Hashirama can get away with it then so can I.”

“Don’t bring him up right now.”

“Fine then.”

Perhaps he should have seen it coming considering the intimacy of their position and yet he was still surprised when Madara tilted his head up and pressed their mouths together in a soft kiss. Tobirama was far from complaining, though. He fell in to it with such strong relief coursing through him that he was sure the only thing keeping him upright was the sensation of a gentle hand brushing against his cheek, thumb tracing along the lines of his tattoo before winding in to his hair. Or maybe it was the other hand at the small of his back, holding him close without giving him the feeling of being trapped in place.

It wasn’t as though they had never kissed before. Even if he disregarded the handful of times they had actually been intimate, he’d spent quite a bit of his time in this household being kissed by the man holding him now. Madara was a much more affectionate partner than he could have guessed and more energy than he would care to admit had gone in to convincing himself that he hadn’t enjoyed it or craved more.

Now it seemed he could have all the more he wanted that he’d thought so far out of his reach.

Surprisingly, there was nothing frantic or sexual about this kiss, none of the frenetic energy two lovers in a cheesy love story should have had once they finally realized they could be together. Instead it was calm, a slow press of lips as they both tried to speak without words to say how they felt without actually saying it. Fortunately the message was rather clear to both of them; there had been enough misunderstandings between them already. 

The kiss lasted for probably longer than it should have. Tobirama had no idea what time it was but he did know that he’d shirked his duties for long enough; he was probably already late for work. He couldn’t bring himself to care, however, not until the two of them slowly unwound from each other and pulled apart a mere few inches to stare in to each other’s eyes. It was a damn good thing this had happened in private because he wasn’t sure he could live down the embarrassment of anyone seeing them act like this is public. Some things were simply not meant to be shared.

Licking his lips and squashing down a moan at the lingering taste of Madara, Tobirama flicked his eyes over to the clock beside the fridge. A sigh escaped him and he shook his head before burying it in his partner’s shoulder. He didn’t want to go back to reality yet.

Madara apparently checked the clock as well because he felt the older man echo his sigh and hold him just a little bit tighter.

“We should get to the office, shouldn’t we?”

“I think my next experiment will be to create a seal which can stop time,” Tobirama grumbled. Madara laughed in to his hair.

“Don’t start playing with time,” he pleaded jokingly. “You’ll break _something_ I’m sure, and it’s possible that this time it’ll be the whole universe.”

“Hmph. Oh ye of little faith.”

A smile crossed his face and he buried it by nuzzling further in to Madara’s neck, who began to draw gentle circles in the small of his back with one palm. It did nothing to motivate him to move.

“If we stay here long enough Hashirama might come looking for us.”

That, however, did. With a deep breath and a great deal of reluctance, Tobirama stood straight and extracted himself from Madara’s arms. The very idea of his sibling finding them here like this was mortifying; living through the inevitable sobbing and bone-crushing hugs would be ten times worse. With that in mind the two of them cleaned up from breakfast, trading shy looks the entire time, and Tobirama ducked back in to the bathroom to gather his dirty training clothes from yesterday.

Several kisses interrupted their progress so it wasn’t exactly a quick getaway for either of them. They both knew that they hadn’t nearly covered everything they would need to talk about but that didn’t stop them from enjoying what they both hoped was the beginning of something. Later they would worry about the rest of it.

Not wanting to raise suspicion or draw undue attention to themselves when they weren’t quite on solid ground yet with each other, they agreed it would be best to arrive at the tower at different times. Since Tobirama needed to go home and gather the things he had left there anyway, doing so was less awkward than it had the potential to be. They wouldn’t even be lying to say they had both come from their own respective homes.

Keeping their budding relationship a secret, as it turned out, was more fun than they had anticipated. Nothing was quite as amusing as conducting a very serious meeting with the knowledge that the two of them had been writhing naked on the conference table an hour beforehand. It became almost a game to see how close they could toe the line before someone caught them. Yet no one ever did and the two of them continued to work just a little harder to free up enough time for Tobirama to crawl under Madara’s desk and suck him off before anyone noticed he was missing from his own office.

And in between their games in the tower they had their softer moments as well, long walks through the forest, dinners together filled with endless conversations. They learned so much about each other Madara began to joke that he might not have told even Izuna half the secrets that he had revealed to Tobirama. But it was a good thing for the more they learned about each other they more their relationship slowly evolved until one day it was as if they had never separated. More than that: it was as though they were truly married.

That was true in more ways than one. As time went by and they spent more of their days together, Tobirama went back to his own home less and less until one day it seemed he never left. It took a while before either of them noticed, accustomed as they were to turning a blind eye to themselves. How long it might have taken if they hadn’t been caught he didn’t want to consider.

Realizing one’s own faults is never fun after all.

Perhaps seven months after the morning they finally pulled their heads out of their asses to actually speak to each other and sort things out, Tobirama was awoken by the sound of banging coming from down the hall. Madara grumbled when he was poked in the side but made no move to get up and investigate the noise. Yawning widely, Tobirama took it upon himself to do so. It didn’t occur to him that this wasn’t his house and he shouldn’t be answering the door because in the back of his mind, without really acknowledging it, he’d already started to think of this place as home again.

When he pulled the front door open he was blinking through half-lidded eyes, very close to falling back asleep while standing up, and the sight of his brother on the front step didn’t immediately set off any alarm bells in his head. In fact, it took him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out why the elder man was staring at him in that manner, jaw dangling somewhere near the floor.

“T-Tobirama?”

“Hn.”

“What are you doing here!?”

It was those words which encouraged him to wake up a little more and tune in to the situation he had just found himself in. A quick glance down at himself made him wince. His naked chest probably wasn’t going to help him convince his sibling that there was nothing going on here – nor were the love bites littered around his nipples. Madara had been particularly attentive the night before.

Looking back to his brother he opened his mouth to explain himself and then hung suspended, not really sure what to say. Should he admit that they had successfully hidden their relationship for _seven months_? He had a feeling that might cause Hashirama to pout a little bit. Not even Izuna had figured them out yet, although that had been quite a feat to accomplish.

“I _knew_ you guys would get along eventually!”

“Uh…yeah.” Tobirama frowned at the outburst, wondering if his brother was really that naïve.

“Wassamatter?” A voice asked from behind him, followed by a mass of tangled hair dropping itself on to his shoulder a moment later. Madara yawned against his skin, as pitifully half-asleep as Tobirama had been when he answered the door.

Nearly glowing with happiness, Hashirama clasped both of his hands together and smiled so wide he looked almost manic. “Madara! Good morning!”

“Mmmph.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to spar!” Clasping his hands even tighter, their visitor continued to grin even as his eyes filled up with tears. “But it looks like you’re a little busy this morning!”

“Anija, isn’t it a little early to come knocking on people’s doors?”

“Nonsense!”

Dismissing such ridiculousness, Hashirama bulled his way past them and traipsed off in to the kitchen. Tobirama rolling his eyes and shut the door, patting what he could reach of Madara’s messy head in consolation when the older man let out a pathetic whine.

“Can’t you make it go away?”

“I wish I could,” Tobirama chuckled. “Come on.”

Madara huffed at him and had to be bribed with three kisses before he would follow down to hall to go face whatever reaction Hashirama was about to throw at them. They found him nearly dancing in his excitement, shifting from foot to foot where he stood next to the table waiting for them. When they both walked in to the room he waved them excitedly in to two seats that he must have dragged next to each other since the square table typically only had one chair on each side.

Reluctantly, they both sat and waited to see what he wanted. They didn’t have to wait long; he exploded the moment their bottoms touched the wood of their seats.

“Tell me _everything_!” he cried enthusiastically. Madara shrank down in his chair with a groan.

“Everything about what, Anija?” Tobirama replied innocently.

“Don’t play coy,” his brother said, shaking a finger at him. “Since when are you two, you know, _you two_?”

“What are you, eight years old?”

His gruff attitude did nothing to deter their enthusiastic guest. Instead of being insulted or put off he simply sank down in one of the other kitchen chairs and set his elbows on the table, dropping his chin in to his palms with a plaintive, “Please?”

Still sunk down in his seat, Madara snorted.

“Apparently he is eight years old,” he grumbled. “Ask your questions and begone you overgrown child.”

“What is this, exactly?”

“How do you mean?” Tobirama asked with a frown. Across from them, Hashirama winked.

“I meant what I said: what is this exactly? Are you dating? Is it serious?”

“Uh…”

Disturbingly, in spite of the smile that stayed glued to his face, his eyes managed to somehow convey a sense of danger as they settled on Madara. It was quite clear that he wasn’t quite as carefree as his attitude might imply. Tobirama was well known as the serious brother but of the two of them Hashirama was historically the one who was known to be overprotective – dangerously so.

“We’re together,” Madara admitted, trying not to look intimidated. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

“So it’s serious then? How serious?” The dangerous light in his eyes faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by more tears which Hashirama dabbed away with the corner of one sleeve.

More uncomfortable than ever, Tobirama and Madara glanced at each other and then quickly looked away. Neither of them spoke at first until Hashirama prompted them.

“Well?” Freeing one hand from under his chin, he reached across to lay a hand across his brother’s wrist. “Tobes?”

“I haven’t said it to him yet; I’m hardly going to say it to you.”

“So say it to him then!” Hashirama’s grin widened impossibly again.

“Most people would consider this a private conversation, Anija.”

“Just pretend I’m not even here! You might as well, right?”

It was clear he had no intention of leaving and Tobirama couldn’t say he was surprised. His brother had been waiting for him to find something more serious than a quick roll in the sheets since they’d both gone through puberty. Now that it looked like he finally had, the older man wasn’t the type to take a hint and back off until he’d gotten what he wanted. He was nosy and he always had been but Tobirama didn’t have the heart to tell him to buzz off.

So instead he bit the bullet and cleared his throat, looking down at his lap so that he didn’t have to look at either of the other two men he was sat with.

“I love him,” he mumbled.

“Sorry?” Hashirama leaned forward, looking like he was ready to burst at the seams. “Speak up little brother!”

“You asinine twat, I said I love him! I’m in love with him, alright? Are you happy!?”

“Of course! Oh, I’m so happy I might cry!” He was crying already but no one felt the need to point that out.

“Can you fuck off now?” Madara snapped.

Hashirama gaped at him. “No way! You haven’t said how _you_ feel yet!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Madara sank even lower in his seat and Tobirama began to worry he would slide right off under the table. As amusing as that image was in his head, he was a little too interested in what the response would be.

“Go on,” Hashirama encouraged him.

“Madara”–Tobirama hesitated before reached over and brushing the man’s thigh comfortingly–“you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

His partner looked up at him with an expression that was equal parts annoyed, embarrassed, and so fond it took his breath away. “You know that I love you too, right? Of course I love you.”

While Hashirama burst in to a loud bout of weeping, Tobirama drew a shuddering breath and turned his head away to hide the color rising on his cheeks. He closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly shut when he felt fingers close around his own. Both he and Madara were always better at saying things without words and so he’d been holding those particular words back for a while.

That Madara might have been holding them back as well had never occurred to him.

Only once he thought he could look at either of them without his face bursting in to flame did Tobirama turn back to the table. Madara was watching him with an understanding expression. His brother was giving a good effort towards creating his own puddle. Ignoring Hashirama, he leaned over to rest his shoulder against his partner’s. Madara held his fingers more tightly and mercifully said nothing.

“My baby brother and my best friend!” their guest wailed. “It’s like a fairytale!”

“Right. Are you leaving yet?” Tobirama rolled his eyes when Hashirama gasped as though the suggestion had been insulting.

“But I didn’t even get to tell Madara what I came here for!”

“Get on with it then and go away!” The man in question interjected. “It’s my day off, I want to go back to bed!”

“Alright! Alright! I just thought you’d like to know that we finally found the ones who injured you on that mission, the one where you lost your memories?”

Startled, both Madara and Tobirama stared at him with wide eyes. “What!?”

“Yeah, it was a coincidence actually. One of our patrols strayed a bit far past the western border chasing some show off from another village who thought she could sneak past them. They chased her right in to a camp full of shinobi from Amegakure.” Hashirama paused with a thoughtful look. “I’m fairly sure they thought we were hunting them specifically because of what they did to you. They couldn’t confess fast enough and we hadn’t even asked them anything yet.”

“That’s…something.”

“Right? Fortuitous, no?”

“Wait.” Madara narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You told me they were all dead already.”

Hashirama was up out of his chair and across the room almost before either of them could blink. “Would you look at the time? It’s much too early for me to be up and about! I should tootle on home, maybe cook Mito some breakfast. Have a good day you two!”

“You lying swine!”

Squealing in fright, the illustrious leader of their village made a mad dash for the front door, Madara hot on his heels, and Tobirama found himself suddenly alone in the kitchen with two overturned chairs. He couldn’t say he was even surprised, really. This wasn’t out of character behavior for either of them.

And, he realized, if he should stay with Madara then this kind of scene was representative of the rest of his life. This kind of thing was exactly what he had to look forward to from here on out: the man who would shape his future running angry after the man who had shaped his past and trying to beat him in to the ground. Add the emotionally inept Izuna in to the mix and bringing their two families together was like to resemble a circus.  

No matter how he tried to fight it, the smile on Tobirama’s face refused to be tamped down. It kind of disturbed him how good that future sounded.

Getting up from the table, he headed over to put on a pot of coffee. Breaking those two idiots up never even occurred to him as an option; they could wear themselves out on their own. Madara would come trailing back home eventually once he realized he was running about the village wearing nothing but his sleep pants and a few hickeys. After today they probably wouldn’t be able to hide their relationship anymore. Even without such a display, now that Hashirama knew it was likely the entire population would be personally informed one by one by midafternoon. They’d be lucky if he didn’t make a public announcement or put up a colorful bulletin somewhere. Subtlety was not Hashirama’s strong point.

Sipping his coffee as he made his way back to the bedroom, Tobirama continued to smile to himself. As much as he protested and complained for anyone who would listen, these moments were the memories that he cherished the most.

And now that he was certain about what he had with Madara, he couldn’t wait for all the memories that they would make together. 


End file.
